The Mentalist: Amore a Roma
by Donnamour1969
Summary: Jane and Lisbon travel to Rome, Italy for a wedding, but will The Eternal City put them under its spell as well? Jisbon romance, humor and the beauty of Roma, with the added bonus of a little Cho-mance. Spoilers, Season 5. Rated T/M for mild language and adult situations. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Jane on a Plane

**A/N: **About a year ago, I visited Rome for the first time. I fell completely in love with the city and its people, so I was excited finally to find a way to incorporate those feelings into a "Mentalist" story (thank you, Nerwen, for the inspiration). Here, then is probably my most blatantly unapologetic romance ever. Not a murder in sight, nor much angst at all, so if that doesn't appeal to you, turn back now. I will try not to make this a travelogue, but Rome is definitely one of the main characters, and by the end of my tale, hopefully you'll have begun your own love affair with Rome.

So, sit back and enjoy your flight…

**The Mentalist: Amore a Roma (Love in Rome)**

**Chapter 1: Jane on a Plane**

_May Dawn Nelson_

_And_

_Virgil Giovanni Minelli_

_Request the honor of your presence_

_As they join together in Holy Matrimony_

_Saturday, the 13__th__ of April_

_At nine o'clock in the morning_

_Two-thousand and thirteen_

_Santa Maria in Trastevere_

_Rome, Italy_

Patrick Jane had just received his invitation from the CBI mail delivery intern when he entered Teresa Lisbon's office after barely a knock. He waved the fine white vellum in front of her.

"Did you get one of these?" he asked her, taking a seat before her desk.

She looked up from her computer.

"Yes." She smiled. "I'm so happy for them."

"Yeah, me too," he replied, with a smile of his own.

She evaluated his expression. "You look pretty smug. Wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you set them up in the first place, would it?"

"Now, Lisbon, I'm completely offended by that assumption. Any time two people can find love, it's a beautiful thing meant to be celebrated. You're mistaking smugness for extreme satisfaction."

"Satisfaction with yourself and the part you played in this union."

"Tom_ay_to, tom_ah_to, Lisbon."

She shook her head, giving up. "Anyway, how romantic that it will be in Rome."

"You're going then?"

She hesitated. "I wasn't going to at first, but Virgil and May asked me to dinner last week, and practically begged me to come and stand up for them. I admit I was worn down pretty easily. A lot of Minelli's family still live there, and that's where he and May decided to honeymoon, so they figured they may as well get married over there too. And anyway, Virgil is like a father to me…"

She trailed off, her eyes going misty. Jane always knew she'd had a special relationship with their former boss, that she missed his cantankerous sarcasm around the CBI. Jane too had a fondness for the man, who had, once upon a time, hired him despite Jane's formerly tenuous grip on his sanity. He probably had saved Jane's life, as he had definitely given him purpose, a reason to go on without his family. So with regard to Virgil Minelli, he knew where Lisbon was coming from. He'd get misty too, if he dwelled on it too long.

Lisbon cleared her throat around the sudden lump of emotion.

"Are _you_ going?" she asked him.  
"Yes. They can hardly get married without a best man."

Lisbon laughed in spite of herself. "You?"

"As you say, I introduced them, after all."

She couldn't believe that Minelli didn't have other, _older_ friends that could fill that position. She almost expressed the thought aloud, but thought better of it, since he seemed so proud of himself.

"I was about to make my plane reservation. You uh, want to take the same flight?"

Jane raised an eyebrow as she blushed slightly. "Sure. I'll reimburse you."

"Okay," she agreed. "And May already reserved our hotel rooms. They overlook The Spanish Steps."

"Sounds lovely," said Jane blandly. "I'll take care of our car rental."

"But Virgil said he'd have someone pick us up from the airport."

"Meh, I like having my own vehicle."

"Fine. I'll leave it to you then."

They quietly smiled at one another, unexpectedly enjoying making plans together.

"I can't believe you're taking time off to do this," said Jane, ruining the mood.

Her smile faded. "I have months of vacation time built up."

"That's what I mean. Good for you, Lisbon." Then he looked at her closely. "Don't tell me you're just staying a night for the wedding. That's a hell of a long trip just to stay a couple of days, then leave."

"Well," she reasoned, "it will take a whole day of travel to get there, one to get back. A day and night for the festivities, then one day for sight-seeing. So, technically I'm taking off _four_ whole days—"

The way he looked at her, she was actually feeling even guiltier for her plans, though now for a completely different reason.

"Take a week. At least. Come on, Lisbon, you deserve it."

"An entire _week_? What if a big case comes up?"

"There are other employees in the CBI. And if they can't solve it while we're gone, we'll do it when we get back, in a fraction of the time, too."

"But-A week?"

"At least. Rome wasn't built in a day, as they say, so I imagine it'll take more than that to see it all."

"I don't know—"

"Come on," he coaxed, his eyes persuasive, his smile charming. "You know you want to."

She was tempted. Boy, _was_ she. Rome had been a dream of hers ever since she had first seen the movie, _Roman Holiday_ as a teenager.

"Have you ever been to Rome?" she asked, slightly changing the subject. A brief cloud crossed his sunny features, but he masked it almost immediately.

"Angela and I toured Venice, Florence and Milan the year before we had Charlotte, and we fell in love with Italy. We'd planned to take Charlotte to Rome when she got older…"

Lisbon's face softened at his unspoken _but_. "I'm sorry," she said.

Jane shrugged. "I do look forward to seeing the city, especially the ancient part. And it will be nice to get away from…_everything._"

She knew he meant his endless ruminations regarding all the people he'd shaken hands with since his family was murdered.

"I suppose I'm more surprised that _you_ would take off," she said. "You claim to be so close now."

"I am. But it's a long plane ride, Lisbon. Lots of time to think." He tapped his temple. "All the possible clues are stored in my head, I just need to put them together in the right way. A change of scenery might be just the thing to spark a new idea."

She actually hoped it would serve to take his mind off his endless pursuit, at least for a while. Maybe the added lines that had formed around his eyes and mouth in recent weeks would smooth out in the rays of the Roman sun. So, in light of that possibility, she made up her mind.

"Okay, one week."

Jane smiled. "Good. Make those reservations."

"Oh, I wonder if the rest of the team was invited."

"Yeah, they all got the same envelopes in the mail today," he supplied.

"I'll see if any of them want on the same flight."

Was it her imagination, or did his gleeful smile falter a bit at her announcement? She shook her head at her own musings as she walked past him to the bullpen.

But she hadn't been imagining things. Jane had felt a flash of disappointment that they were unlikely to be on this trip alone. He thought how nice it would be to get away with her, to see what this new vibe meant that was humming between them. It had been nearly a year since he'd slipped and confessed his love for her, and no pathetic denial could take those words back. He knew it, and she knew it, though neither of them had mentioned it since. Still, it hung in the air between them like an ax ready to fall—horrible imagery to describe such beautiful emotion, but that was exactly the way it felt.

"Hey," he heard Lisbon say, calling her team to attention. "Any of you planning to attend Minelli's wedding?"

"I can't," said Rigsby, clearly disappointed. "It's Ben's birthday party that weekend."

"I just took my vacation to visit my family," said Van Pelt. "I don't have any more time off."

"That's too bad," said Lisbon, genuinely sympathetic. She was becoming more excited about the trip the more she thought of it.

"I'm in," said Cho.

Everyone looked at him in surprise. On the surface, Cho seemed to be the least frivolous of the group, so a wedding trip to Europe would appear out of the question for him. Then again, Lisbon thought, he loved classic romance novels, and she'd often seen him with books of poetry. Such a beautiful place might well appeal to his latent romantic sensibilities.

"I was going to make mine and Jane's reservations. You want me to get you a seat on the same flight? We'll be gone a week."

"Sure," he said. "Thanks."

"Good. I'll e-mail you the itinerary."

Cho watched his boss leave, a feeling of excitement stirring in his gut, though you wouldn't know it from his face. Rome. A city of history, art, and beauty. This was just the thing he needed to pull himself out of the rut he was in. All he'd done in the past year was work, go to the gym, and read. He'd gone on exactly two dates. One was a disastrous set-up by Rigsby. She'd been really hot, but dumb as a post. He didn't even have the heart to sleep with her when she offered.

The other date had been with Tamsin Wade from the Gang Division's Rapid Response Team. He'd kept it a secret from Rigsby, given that he'd been so jealous of her taking Cho away from their team. But he'd admitted once she was hot, and Cho thought so as well. She was a former Marine, highly intelligent, knew her stuff, and since she worked for the CBI as well, (though in a different unit) she understood his hours and the work he did, so it was refreshing that he didn't have to explain. They'd seemed perfect for each other.

He'd been attracted to her from the moment they'd met, so it wasn't really a surprise when they wound up in bed the first (and only) night they went out. What _had_ surprised him was how completely dominating she was in the bedroom. Afterward, he'd felt like he'd been assaulted in prison. He wasn't into pain—not his thing at all. Sure, a little aggressiveness could be sexy, but Cho was at heart a traditionalist. He treasured women, loved to please them, to see to their every need both in bed and out. He liked how manly and protective the right woman made him feel. Tamsin made him fear for his own protection. Definitely not the right woman for him.

So, he'd told her he'd see her around and went to the bathroom to nurse his wounds. When he'd come out, she was gone. Neither of them ever called again. No one, he realized, would ever be like Summer. Sure, she was trouble from the beginning, but she had totally consumed him, brought out his innate protectiveness, challenged him, infuriated him, and turned him on like no other woman had before or since. He wanted someone who would awaken him like she had, but without the drugs and danger and lies. Part of him would always love her, but he'd long ago accepted they weren't meant to be. Too much work. Too much drama. Too much pain of a much different kind.

And so, Rome. He allowed himself to imagine meeting a beautiful Italian woman and having a whirlwind romance such as the great novels promised. He wouldn't seek her out; it would just happen as naturally as breathing. But he pushed the thought from his mind. It was unlikely such a thing would happen, so he was better off not thinking about it to save himself from disappointment. No, he'd enjoy Rome for the city itself, eat a lot of pasta, and come home with many pleasant memories to see him through the lonely days ahead.

"Maybe you'll meet a hot Italian girl," Rigsby was saying from the desk behind him.

"Didn't even cross my mind," lied Cho. "I'm going for the ancient ruins."

Rigsby snorted. "You'll never get laid at that rate."

Cho shrugged, but a secret smile briefly lit his eyes.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Three weeks later… _

"Uh, ma'am. I don't think these are out seats," said Lisbon as she looked again at her ticket, then at the flight attendant.

They had stopped in the first class area of the airplane. The smartly uniformed woman peered down at the proffered ticket, newly printed out at the departure desk.

"That's right. You must have been upgraded. Congratulations." She moved on to help other passengers find their seats and store their carry-on bags.

Lisbon looked at the wonderfully spacious leather seats. "Did you have anything to do with this?" she asked Jane suspiciously, as they settled into the two seats in the middle row of the large passenger liner. Cho gladly took one of the window seats across the aisle from them.

"It's a long flight, Lisbon. I think we all deserve the utmost comfort."

She shook her head. "But—"

"Don't worry about the extra cost. It's on me. Consider it payback for all my former shenanigans."

"If that were true, you would have bought us an entire plane."

Cho grinned at her witty reply, and secretly concurred.

"_My_ upgrade was free, if that helps any."

She relaxed gratefully into the luxurious leather. "How did you manage that?"

And then she remembered how the woman at the counter had flirted outrageously with him when they'd checked in. His smile was almost embarrassed.

"Never mind," she said with a knowing smirk.

"Thanks, Jane," said Cho.

"Yes, thanks," she said with a sigh, her eyes closed as she felt her nervousness begin to rise.

"My pleasure."

After everyone was onboard, and the flight attendants had offered their spiel on flight safety, Jane noticed Lisbon tightly gripping the arms of the seat.

"Plane travel is still one of the safest modes of transportation."

"There's always the exception," she whispered, lest some other phobic flyer hear her words and panic.

His hand rested atop hers, warm and dry to her cold, clammy one. He began massaging her fingers with his.

"There is nothing to fear. The plane will lift us gently into the clouds, and all your worries will disappear as we float safely over the earth."

She opened one eye. "Don't bother; I'm too tense to be hypnotized," she said as the engines revved and they sped down the runway.

She held his gaze and felt compelled not to look away, both eyes opening to stare into soft, still pools of sea green. The rest of the world drifted away, and she found her held breath expelling from between her lips, then evening out, matching him breath for breath. In the back of her mind, she felt the plane rise into the air, pinning her gently back into her seat until it leveled off. The ding of the seatbelt light flickering off awoke her from her spell, and Jane smiled, then squeezed her hand.

It had been the most carefree take-off she'd ever experienced.

"Thanks," she mouthed over the hum of the engines.

He nodded his head, then closed his eyes, reclining his seat back all the way to take his morning nap. His hand still rested on hers, though, a lingering reminder of his kind gesture.

And so it went for the next two legs of their nineteen-hour journey, Jane by her side, offering her a calm she usually only obtained through several shots of whiskey. She watched three movies, read half of her thick crime novel, ate too much, and napped. Jane slept most of the way, enjoying the fawning attentions of the flight attendants when he awoke to drink his tea or eat the first class cuisine the ladies presented to them. He peaked in on Lisbon's movies from time to time, but otherwise took little interest in the video screen. Instead, he seemed to lose himself in thought, and Lisbon had no doubt he was quietly contemplating his list of Red John suspects. Across from them, Cho finished one novel and began another, he too catching a few winks when the quiet of the cabin allowed it.

Morning came again and they found themselves finally touching down in Italy. Just like in an old movie, they climbed down a ladder to the tarmac, travel weary but exhilarated to be in Rome at last. They passed quickly through customs, then to baggage claim, and onward to retrieve the car Jane had arranged to wait for them.

"Grazie," he said, his accent perfect as he took the keys from the car service employee. It was a Mazda Miata convertible, its top down, red, with room enough for only two.

"But there's no back seat," Lisbon chided. "What about Cho?"

Cho didn't look perturbed at all. Actually, he looked rather relieved. "I've heard about driving in Rome. I'll take a cab." He turned abruptly away to walk back toward the taxi stand, his leather duffle bag in hand.

"Sorry, Kimball," called Jane, not the least bit apologetic. Lisbon frowned at him.

"Well, that was inconsiderate, even for you," she said, watching as he loaded their luggage into the tiny trunk. Cho wouldn't have even fit in there. "That's the last time I leave you in charge of anything."

"An innocent oversight," he said with a grin. Then he opened the passenger side door with a flourish. "Your chariot, Signorina…"

He got in on his side of the little sports car and took his sunglasses from his inside suit pocket. "You got one of those GPS thingies on your phone?"

She sighed and brought out her phone, fingers crossing that its GPS ap would be working outside of the states. Trepidation filled her as she punched in the address of the hotel, but thankfully, it worked.

Lisbon spent most of the ride with her eyes half-closed. Even compared to California, driving in Rome was an absolute nightmare. No one seemed to obey any known traffic laws, including such basic things as using turn signals or stopping at red lights. They narrowly avoided being involved in a collision—three times—and when an angry Roman cursed and honked at Jane, he did so right back—in fluent Italian.

Lisbon sank deeper into her seat, more fearful now than she'd ever been on a plane. Jane, however, seemed to be having the time of his life. It was like the city was built just for his driving style, and he directed many a gleeful smile at her as he drove, his sunglasses hiding the sparkle she knew must be in his eyes.

When they caught their first glimpse of the Coliseum, however, Lisbon forgot the terrors of the Roman highways and sat up straight in her seat, her jaw literally dropping open in awe.

"Oh my God," she murmured. "It's…incredible!"

Jane also seemed overcome, and for a brief, dangerous moment, spared a look at the ancient monolith. The slight jarring of their rear bumper, followed by more honking, shook him out of his amazement, and he sped up amidst a shower of uncomplimentary Italian.

"I hope you paid for the extra insurance," she said in annoyance, but Jane only chuckled and drove regretfully past the Coliseum toward their hotel.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon stepped onto the balcony off her small but lovely room, a smile lighting her face as she took in the Piazza di Spagna and the Spanish Steps below. It was a beautiful spring day, and despite her tiredness, she was restless so couldn't see herself napping. She breathed deeply, letting the essence of Rome seep into her soul as she watched the milling crowds and the brave souls climbing to the top of the Steps. She couldn't wait to explore.

A knock came from within and she stepped back into her room.

"Lisbon," came a familiar voice. But the knock hadn't come from the front door—it had come from the adjoining room. She went to the door and unlocked it, and there was Jane, smiling that smile that always managed to annoy and attract her in equal measures.

He was about to compliment the pretty sundress and ballerina flats she'd changed into, when she said: "You changed rooms. You were supposed to be down the hall."

He shrugged. "I thought it would be safer to have someone you know in the adjoining room."

She eyed him suspiciously. _Safe_ would not be a word she would use to describe Patrick Jane. "I'm a cop, Jane. I don't need protection, least of all from you."

"I thought it the gentlemanly thing to do," he said, once more dismissing her opinion. But then, she should have been used to it by now. "Hey, you want to go out for awhile until it's time to meet everyone for dinner?"

Her spirit of adventure quickly overwhelmed her testiness, and she smiled. "Sure!" Then she remembered their other colleague. "Did Cho make it here okay?"

"Yeah, I ran into him in the lobby when I was changing my room. He already went out on his own. I picked up a city map from the front desk. It's mostly in Italian, but I think we can figure it out."

"You _speak_ Italian, Jane."

"I do?" he teased. "Well, that's lucky."

"Someday you'll have to tell me that story," she said, but he only grinned mysteriously.

They spent the afternoon exploring, grabbing pistachio gelato and eating it near the top of the Steps, browsing through the pricey shops on the Via Fratinna. Lisbon dipped her hands in the boat-shaped la Fontana della Barcaccia at the foot of the Steps, and at the encouragement of a local, took a drink from the water that originated from the famous Roman aqueduct. It was fresh and cold. She splashed at Jane, but he handily avoided a soaking. They moved on to a bench near the perimeter of the square, and sat watching the people enjoying the day, just as they were. His arm rested casually on the bench behind her shoulders.

As the sun began to sink below the horizon and the lights of the city turned on, Jane grabbed Lisbon's wrist to read the time on her watch.

"We'd better get back. The gelato was great, but I'm still starved." He patted his stomach for emphasis.

Lisbon sighed, and Jane reached down to pull her to her feet. They walked very closely, laughing at nothing important and taking it all in. They both fought the strange urge to hold hands, even though it seemed like it would be the most natural thing in the world. She shivered a little in the cool evening air, and without asking, he removed his suit coat and placed it over her shoulders.

"Thank you," she said almost breathlessly. She meant for the coat, as well as for the lovely afternoon, but most of all, for his cheerful and amusing company.

He smiled and held out his arm for her to take as they strolled back to their hotel.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As they walked across the square, Jane came to an amazing realization. He hadn't thought of Red John since the moment the plane had touched down. Rome had captivated his attention, but no more so than the woman at his side. He hadn't seen Lisbon laugh or smile this much in, well, _ever_. Not all in one day. She'd been carefree and excited, reaching for him when she was struck by something she saw. Every time she pulled on his arm, it was like she was tugging at his heart, and for once, he wasn't afraid to feel this way with her.

And to think, this was only the first day of seven still to come. The hours stretched before him like a long banquet table, filled with glorious things for him to savor. He need only share her tonight and tomorrow for the wedding festivities, then she was all his. It would be a veritable Roman feast.

"You warm enough?" he asked her, and he felt the blissful heat of her body against his arm again.

"More than," she replied, looking up at him with a dimpled smile.

For a brief moment he thought that if he never heard of Red John again, it wouldn't matter to him one bit.

**A/N: In love yet? I hope so! But don't get too comfortable—it's not going to be that easy for Jane and Lisbon to find one another. The course of true love and all…And I did promise a little romance for Cho as well. All of this and more coming soon. Ciao for now!**

"


	2. Famiglia

A/N: Wow! I am really overwhelmed and touched by the response to my first chapter! Thank you all so much! Obviously many of you love Rome, (and romance) or at least the idea of it. I'm so glad.

I hope you enjoy this next chapter too. I will be using some Italian words and phrases from time to time, and I will translate at the end of the chapter if necessary. I don't really speak Italian, so you native speakers please feel free to correct me if I make a mistake.

Now, onto more romance (sort of) in Rome…

**Chapter 2: Famiglia (family)**

"Virgil!" Lisbon exclaimed as the older man took her into his embrace.

"Teresa," he replied into the top of her head. "So glad you could come"

"Yeah,"chimed in Jane, shaking his hand. "Thanks for getting her to take the first vacation she's had in years."

Minelli laughed. "Happy to help. You remember my lovely bride."

May stepped forward, hugging them both. "I can't believe we're all here!"

"Good you could come too, Cho," Minelli said, offering his hand.

"Yes, sir, Boss. Thanks for the invitation."

Then Minelli turned to the rest of the crowd that had gathered in the hotel restaurant.

"Famiglia di Roma," he announced loudly, "meet famiglia della California!"

"Benvenuto!" echoed through the private dining room. "Welcome!"

Jane, Lisbon and Cho were surrounded by a multitude of Minellis, everyone from the famed sister from Hawaii to uncles, aunts and cousins of the groom. Everyone was speaking a mishmash of Italian and English, hugging them and kissing both cheeks like they were really a part of the family. Virgil and May had never looked happier.

When most everyone had been introduced or had introduced themselves, they settled around the long wooden table, and the waiters came in with platters of antipasto, then bowls of pasta, risotto, various roasted meats, vegetable dishes, bread and, of course, plenty of wine.

Lisbon sat with Jane on one side, and was soon joined on the other by a beautiful raven-haired man with blue eyes very similar to Virgil Minelli's. She had felt those blue eyes on her from the moment she'd stepped into the dining room, and she was flattered that he had somehow managed to secure the seat right next to her when dinner began.

"I am Niccolo Minelli, Virgil's second cousin. And you are Teresa." He took her hand and kissed it, and while Lisbon blushed, Jane's eyes narrowed a fraction.

"Yes. How nice to meet you," she replied.

"And I'm Patrick Jane," he intervened.

"Si, si. Virgil's best man."

The two men rose briefly and shook hands. Niccolo was at least a head taller than Jane, and Lisbon couldn't help admiring the Italian's muscular form.

"So, you are with la polizia as well?" He asked Jane. "Just like I hear is the beautiful Teresa."

"No. I'm a consultant actually."

"Oh, I see. You tell them how to solve their crimes."

"Exactly."

"Sort of."

Jane and Lisbon had such different definitions of Jane's job description that Niccolo grinned in understanding. "Aw, you two must be married."

"No!" This time when they spoke at once, they agreed wholeheartedly.

Niccolo laughed softly, and his cerulean gaze rested in appreciation on Lisbon. "I am very glad to hear this." He brought his wine to his full lips and continued watching her over the rim of the glass.

"No, not married, but we _are_ partners," Jane clarified.

Lisbon shot him a look which he pretended not to notice. _Partners, eh?_ He made it sound like they were something more than longtime colleagues.

"Are you from Rome?" Lisbon asked, changing the subject.

"Si, born and raised here."

"But your English is very good," complimented Jane. "You must have studied abroad."

"Si. I attended university in England."

"Ah," said Jane.

"And what do you do here in Rome?" asked Lisbon.

"I am a tour guide now. My degree is in History, and I came back to Roma to teach, but I find myself enjoying more and more showing visitors my beautiful city. I can give you a private tour of the Vatican, the Colosseo, and the Palatino if you wish."

"Oh, I would love that!"

"The day after the wedding then," Niccolo said. "It will be a date. I will show you my Roma." He seemed briefly enraptured by Teresa, then he looked at Jane politely.

"Patrick, you must come too, of course."

"Of course," agreed Jane, but his answering smile was tight. "Teaching jobs must be hard to come by in Rome," he added, and Lisbon elbowed him under the table for his rudeness. He gasped in sudden pain.

"No, not at all," replied the oblivious Nicollo. "I will teach a class at Sapienza each semester, but I much prefer being outside, surrounded by beauty. Although one finds beauty in the most unexpected of places."

His eyes were on Lisbon when he said this, and Jane found the man irksome to the extreme. He rubbed his bruised side and fumed silently.

They continued to dine on the wonderful food, but the more involved Lisbon and Niccolo became in their conversation, the less Jane felt like eating. He glanced across the table to see how Cho was faring, and grinned when he saw that the younger man was flanked by two of Virgil's elderly aunts, who pinched his dimpled cheeks often and clearly spoke little English.

What had been a wonderful afternoon had suddenly lost most of its luster. He felt like a child whose playmate had found a new friend, and damned if he wanted to share.

An hour later, after many courses and toasts to the happy couple, Jane had had enough.

"Lisbon," he said softly, but she was so involved with Nicollo and their conversation about the catacombs on the outskirts of the city that she didn't hear him at first.

"Lisbon," he said again, more loudly, this time touching her shoulder at the same time.

"What?" she said, turning to him with barely contained annoyance.

"We've had a very long day, and morning will come very soon. Shouldn't we get to bed?"

He could have said _to sleep_, or _retire_, but he had chosen his words carefully, and while Lisbon was too tired to catch his meaning, Nicollo certainly had, and he raised his eyebrows and smirked a little in understanding.

Just planting the suggestion caused Lisbon to yawn, her hand coming up to her mouth in embarrassment.

"Oh, excuse me, Nicollo. It's not the company, I assure you."

"Not at all. And Patrick is right. You must get some sleep. The sooner the morning comes, the sooner I may see you again."

Lisbon blushed, and it wasn't just from the three glasses of wine she'd enjoyed.

The pair rose, as did Nicollo. "May I walk you to your room?" he asked.

Jane reached for her arm. "That's quite all right," said Jane. "We have adjoining rooms."

"Oh," said Nicollo. "I see."

"Jane—" said Lisbon, finally catching on. She shot Jane a look that would freeze a lesser man, but Jane only smiled innocently.

"It's not what you think, Nicollo," Lisbon continued. "We are only colleagues. But he and I _are_ heading in the same direction," she said, holding out her hand to him. "It has been nice talking with you. I'll see you tomorrow at the wedding."

Nicollo leaned down and kissed her lingeringly on each cheek.

"Buona notte, Teresa."

"Buona notte, Nicollo."

"My friends call me Nicki, you know," he said.

"Well, good-night…Nicki."

Jane nodded to the Italian and hastened Lisbon off to say their farewells to Minelli and May, putting her arm purposefully through his.

Later, in the elevator, Lisbon dropped his arm and turned to him curiously. "What's with the manhandling all of a sudden?"

"It's that Nicollo. He's a real rounder. You should steer well clear of him."

"What? He was very charming. Sure, he likes to flirt, but I hear that's the way most Italian men behave."

"My point exactly."

"And so what if he _was_ interested in me?" she asked in annoyance. "I came here to enjoy myself for a change. Nothing wrong with some harmless flirtation."

"He must be at least ten years younger than you."

He could almost see the steam shooting from her ears.

"And what the hell difference does that make? You think he's after my money or something?" She laughed without humor. "That's funny."

"No," said Jane seriously, just as the elevator door opened on their floor. "I think he's trying to get you in bed, and he thinks that because you're an older woman, you'll be much more desperate, and much more…grateful."

The moment the words left his mouth, he saw his error immediately, and he scrunched up his face in preparation for a sock in the nose. But it didn't come.

"Go to hell, Jane," she said, brushing past him to flee down the hall to her room.

"Lisbon, wait!" he called, trotting after her. But she'd made it to her door and had shut and put the chain on before he'd had time to catch up.

He knocked softly. "Lisbon, please open the door and let me apologize."

He heard a faint rustling just behind the door, and knew she must still be standing there. He directed his attention to the peephole. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, but I'm just trying to look after you."

There was a moment of silence, and he could imagine her on the other side, fists clenched in anger.

"I'm a big girl, Jane. I don't need you to look after me," she finally said through the door, exhaustion riddling her voice. She sighed. "We're both tired, so I'm going to forget you ever said any of that crap you did. Good night, Jane. I'm going to bed and I suggest you do the same."

Jane was reluctant to leave things this way, but he could tell most of the fire had drained from her in her extreme fatigue.

"Okay," he said. "See you in the morning."

His hand briefly touched her door, and then he walked the few steps to his own, going through the motions of sliding his key card and entering his quiet, lonely room. He was oddly comforted to know she was just a wall away from him, and he put his ear to the adjoining door to listen. He could hear the sound of water running, the rustling of clothing being removed and bedding being drawn back. Soon, the light from beneath the door went out, and after her very audible yawn, he imagined with a smile Lisbon closing her eyes and settling in to sleep.

He didn't stop listening until he heard her deep breathing, and his own eyes grew heavy.

"Fino a domani, la mia bellisima amica,"1 he whispered, then crawled into his own bed to sleep, the sound of Lisbon's laughter filling his dreams.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cho watched his coworkers across the table with an internal smile. Jane was clearly jealous of the Italian guy flirting with Lisbon, and it made for some very amusing entertainment. He wished they'd just do it already and put themselves (and him) out of their misery. Had Rigsby been there, he surely would have placed a bet that the long-time friends would become lovers by the end of this trip. Cho would have had to concur.

On his side of the table, however, it wasn't quite so much fun, and sex certainly didn't seem a prospect for Cho in the near future. Minelli's aunts were very sweet, but they were also very old. Cho had a deep respect for the elderly, so he listened politely as they tested their rusty English, which amounted to comments about the restaurant's inferior food (compared to theirs) and intense interest in his marital status. Of course, they knew plenty of women who would be suitable for a handsome, successful Americano, some of who were related to the Minelli family. He'd smiled and allowed his dimples to show, which they took great pleasure in pinching while at the same time making a fuss over his firm biceps. Still, despite the old women's opinions, the food and wine were good, so the evening wasn't a total loss.

After Jane and Lisbon left, Cho made his excuses to the widows, wished Virgil and May luck for the morrow, and with the best intentions headed for the elevator and his waiting bed. Unfortunately, jetlag was still messing with his internal clock, and he felt the need to see the darkness to put him in the best frame of mind for sleeping. He glanced at the clock in the lobby. Ten-forty-five. He shook his head and went out the hotel doors and into the night.

The crowds had dispersed from around the beautifully lit Spanish Steps and all that remained were a few strolling night owls, and lovers in search of a bit of romantic privacy. Cho decided he'd walk once around the square and then make an attempt at sleep. He'd gone only a quarter way around when he heard two people—male and female-having a vehement argument in rapid Italian in the shadowy space between buildings. Even if he'd brought his Italian phrasebook, there would be no way he'd have been able to follow what they were saying.

But there was no mistaking the word _no,_ especially coming from the mouth of a woman.

Cho stopped short, stepping casually back beneath the awning of a closed shop to listen further, his cop senses perking up despite his being in a foreign country. His hand went automatically to where his holster normally would have been, but he remembered belatedly that he had not brought his weapon to Italy.

As the fight escalated, Cho heard the woman gasp and he could no longer stand idly by. He stepped into the narrow alley in time to see the man grabbing the woman's upper arm violently as she tried to walk away. His back was to Cho, so all he could see in the dim light was a small, dark-haired young woman, no doubt frightened to death of the taller man who continued to yell as she jerked against his grip.

Cho moved quickly, wrapping a thick arm around the man's neck from behind and powering him to his knees, keeping him just above the point of passing out. He smelled strongly of alcohol. At once, the man's hand released the woman and came up to fight feebly against Cho's arm.

"Telefonare la polizia," Cho suggested tightly.

Cho tightened his hold and the man grew limp. He laid him gently to the cobblestones and stepped back, panting softly with exertion and adrenaline. Without warning, Cho felt the weight of a woman's flat leather handbag slamming into the back of his head.

"Jesus!" he exclaimed in the midst of being continually pummeled. "Stop! Uh, smettila! Smettila!"

He struggled with her a moment, managing to get hit in the face a couple of times before he grabbed hold of her wrists. They were both breathless now.

"Lady, I was trying to protect you. Stop, please."

"Stupido Americano! Why did you kill my brother?"

Cho instantly dropped her wrists.

"What? He's not dead. Just passed out."

She dropped to her knees beside her hapless brother, patting him firmly on his cheeks.

"This was not your business," she was muttering.

"But he was yelling at you…and he grabbed you like he was about to assault you."

"We always argue in this way. I was yelling too."

"I'm sorry. An understandable mistake. You were speaking so fast—I didn't understand your Italian. Let me help you-"

"I think you have given too much _help_, eh?" Sarcasm was apparently the same in any language.

Cho stood helplessly by until her brother began to come around with a moan. The woman helped him to sit up, and she spoke to him in soothing Italian. Well, thought Cho, he was going to help whether they liked it or not.

He squatted down and put the man's arm around his shoulder.

"Where are you staying?" Cho asked the woman.

"It's none of your—"  
"Look, he's been drinking too, and there's no way you will be able to get him into a bed without help. Please, let me do this."

She looked at him from the other side of her brother, and although he still couldn't see the features of her face, his heart gave a great lurch in his chest.

"D'accordo. Okay," she said, realizing he was right.

"Okay, let's pull him up together then." On Cho's count to three, they both stood, the man's head lolling heavily forward.

"Walk, Luca," she cajoled him, and he began mindlessly sliding his feet along the cobblestones.

"Where are we going?" asked Cho.

"We are meeting our family in a ristorante down the piazza. We are very late. That is why we were arguing."

A sneaking suspicion occurred to Cho. "The Minelli dinner for Virgil and May?"

She stopped suddenly, and Cho and Luca almost fell forward.

"Si," she said. "How do you know this?"

"I was there. I worked with Virgil in the US."

"You are also la polizia?"

"Yeah."

She laughed, and it was low and sexy, like she had been drinking whiskey all her life.

"That is why you attacked poor Luca like he was uno stupratore—a rapist."

"Yes. Sorry."

"No, I am sorry I hit you," she said, suddenly seeing the humor in the situation. "Like Cugino Virgil says to me, once la polizia, always la polizia."

Cho grinned and nodded. "Virgil is your cousin, then?"

"Si. We came in from Napoli, but our train was late. While I was changing at the hotel, Luca visited the bar." Her last words were ominous. His drinking must have been a big part of their argument.

"So I see."

By this time, they had made it into the light of the hotel entrance, and Cho could see the woman's face for the first time. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Black hair fell to her waist in princess-like waves, her mouth full and painted a rich red to match her dress. Her olive skin appeared flawless, and though she was petite, her body was sweetly curved in all the right places. But it was her eyes that caught and held him. They were so light blue they appeared almost silver. Or maybe it was just a trick of the light.

"What is your name?" he asked her, feeling himself holding his breath in anticipation.

"I am Serena Minelli," she said, and her eyes had gone round at the sight of him. Clearly he wasn't what she had expected either.

"I'm Kimball Cho," he said. "Incantato."2

Then Luca gave another moan and promptly vomited at their feet.

**A/N: I hope you laughed in all the right places! I had fun writing this chapter. More romance up next, I promise. Thanks for reading, and I hope you will be so kind as to leave a review.**

_**1. Fino a domani, la mia bellisima amica**_**—Until tomorrow, my beautiful friend.**

_**2. Incantato—**_**Enchanted.**


	3. The Wedding

A/N: Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews of Chapter 2! You guys are really the best! And thanks to those of you who are going back and reading my older fics. I always love to hear what you think of my writing, and there is certainly no statute of limitations on submitting reviews :)

Please forgive any errors in my descriptions of ceremonies or of Rome or of my use of Italian. Call it poetic license, and we'll all be happy.

**Chapter 3: The Wedding**

Jane had given up on religion long ago, but even he found the Basillica, Saint Maria in Trastavere, extremely impressive. That ancient Christians would dedicate so much effort into creating the beautiful structure, with its colorful mosaics and Roman columns, was a testament to a faith he would never feel. Yet, he could admire and appreciate their longing to believe; it was human nature to want to believe in something, and to build a monument such as this church to commemorate that. He didn't fault the Catholics for it. If he were honest with himself, he envied them.

In an antechamber off from the vestibule, Jane straightened Minelli's silk tie, and stepped back in admiration of the distinguished looking older man. They were both wearing dove gray morning coats and ties, and Jane realized he had not attended a wedding since Angela had been alive. It had been some over-the-top affair between two people he'd barely known and who were likely already divorced by now. But Jane couldn't help feeling that Virgil and May's nuptials would be lasting. It had all been Jane's idea after all.

Jane grinned. "You look very happy," he told his former boss.

"Oh, I am. May—she was my savior. I shudder to think what would have happened to me if you hadn't introduced us. I was on the road to Hell, to be sure."

Jane nodded, remembering how concerned he himself had been, to see his friend so aimless, so bent on securing his personal destruction in the bottom of a bottle.

"I had a feeling you two would click," Jane said almost modestly. But Minelli wasn't fooled.

"Go ahead, take all the credit you want. I won't begrudge you. You're my best man because of it, and you know it."  
"Okay, I'll take full responsibility for the match."

Minelli laughed. "That's what I thought. But seriously, Jane, I wish this same happiness for you someday." He put a hand on Jane's shoulder. "We can't let Red John win."

Jane looked the man in the eyes, knowing he was right, and honestly glad that Minelli's own experience with Red John hadn't kept him down for long.

"He _won't_ win," he replied with real confidence. "Not if I can help it."

He hadn't confided in Minelli about his newest theories regarding who the killer was; the fewer who knew, the better. It was not only to protect the information, but also for the personal safety of those he cared about. It was bad enough that Lisbon knew.

"But this is neither the time nor place for such maudlin thoughts," said Jane, his smile returning. "We're celebrating _your_ happiness today; that's all that matters right now."

Minelli nodded, and his own smile returned. "I have some other news, but I haven't shared it with Teresa yet. I'm coming back to the CBI."

Jane's face lit up even more. "That's great news! We've miss your old mug around the place."  
"Well, May helped me to get a handle on my drinking, made me realize I need to get back on the horse again. I mean, a man can only do so much fishing and golfing before he goes insane. Besides, May works all day, so when I wasn't out on a pier or a golf course, I was moping around an empty house, missing her. I've realized my retirement was a bit premature. I won't be back at Serious Crimes though—I'm through with death. I'll be with the white collar unit now."

"Sounds like a happy medium. Lisbon will be very pleased, I'm sure."

Just then, a light tap came on the door, and the face of Nicollo Minelli appeared. Jane's face soured instantly.

"Virgil, the bride has just arrived. The priest said you must go out to the chapel now."

"Si. Grazie, Nicky."

Nicollo smiled at both men. "The ladies both look ahh…molto bello," he told them on a dramatic sigh. "But Teresa nearly eclipses the bride in beauty."

Jane was somehow unhappy with that assessment, even though he knew Nicollo was probably right.

"I'm sure," Virgil was saying politely. The door closed and the cousin disappeared. At Jane's expression, Minelli raised his eyebrows speculatively. He'd watched the intrigue among the three of them at last night's dinner, and he certainly hadn't lost his investigative instincts.

"What's that all about? Are you and Teresa—?"

"No," said Jane too quickly. Then he put on his usual expression of bland amusement. "You ready?"

And suddenly Jane felt just as excited to see Teresa as Minelli must be to see May. It was an amazing realization.

"You have the rings?" asked Minelli.

Jane made a great show of patting down his suit and looking suitably worried. By the end of his little show, he thought Minelli was going to kill him. Just like old times. He grinned and produced the two gold bands from his inside coat pocket.

"Et voila!" Jane said with a wide smile.

Minelli just shook his head. "I'm seriously regretting my choice of best man."

"Well, too late now. Come on, old man. Your bride is waiting."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane wasn't prepared for the sight of Lisbon advancing down the aisle toward him; it did something crazy to his heart. _Beautiful,_ as that putz Nicollo had called her, came nowhere near justifying her magnificence, and the sacred hymn that accompanied her slow advance to the altar made her seem even more ethereal. She wore a vintage dress of pale yellow taffeta, fitted at the bodice and slightly belled out from the waist. Little cap sleeves covered her shoulders, and the familiar gold crucifix rested against her alabaster skin. Her dark hair was pulled up loosely, with a dozen ringlets falling around her face and neck. Tiny white flowers nestled among the curls at her crown, and she looked sweet and young and literally took his breath away.

His expression must have startled her, for she raised an eyebrow askance. He felt himself flush a little, but found his usual grin just in time as she took her place on the other side of the priest. He dragged his gaze away from the bridesmaid to watch the bride's entrance, and found himself oddly touched by Minelli's reaction to her loveliness. His blue eyes grew misty and his smile was soft and adoring. The man was truly in love, and it was humbling to watch.

The wedding guests numbered around twenty, a few more than had attended the dinner the night before. It was composed of all Minellis, plus Cho, May having no family that had come from the States. She had told Lisbon she didn't mind, that she wasn't close to her family anyway, but Jane understood how she must have felt, given his lack of family at his own wedding long ago. But he pushed that painful reminiscence from his mind and attempted to focus on the here and now.

He barely listened to the traditional Catholic ceremony, however, his eyes straying to Lisbon, who was reverent and comfortable within the sanctity of her church. He managed to hand over the rings at the appropriate time (much to Minelli's relief), the priest blessed them, Bible passages were read, hymns played, and all at once Jane was escorting Lisbon back down the aisle, the new husband and wife before them in the processional.

"You look like an angel," he whispered to Lisbon, who looked up at him, startled by his heartfelt pronouncement.

And what could she say about Patrick Jane in formal wear? _Handsome_ didn't do him justice, but she would have been embarrassed to say what she really felt, and the only thing could she could get past her tight throat was, "Thank you. You look nice too."

_Lame,_ she thought, but she wondered if her adoring eyes gave her away. The way his eyes darkened a bit as he read her unspoken words, he had understood her very well. It was a moment between them that seemed to change the very air, and Jane would look back on it in years to come as the instant his life changed course forever.

After endless pictures, in which Jane's cheeks began to hurt from smiling, it was time for the wedding breakfast and reception. Amidst a shower of confetti, the bride and groom exited through the archway of the church and into the back of a waiting sleek, black Mercedes. Jane and Lisbon hopped into the second one, and they waved to the guests as the car pulled past the lovely fountain in the church's piazza. The others would walk around the corner and down a narrow strada to a restaurant there in the charming Trastevere district.

In the backseat of the car, Jane and Lisbon were at first unusually silent, still shaken by their experience in the church. Finally, Lisbon ventured some harmless conversation.

"It was a beautiful ceremony," she said. "Very romantic."

"Yes," said Jane.

Their hands rested mere millimeters away from each other on the seat, but moving just a little more would cross a line both of them were afraid to cross. So they sat quietly the rest of the way, close, but still not quite touching.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cho had stared at Serena during the entire wedding, remembering the previous evening with a small smile. She had apologized for her brother's indelicate action-throwing his guts up and having it splatter upon his shoes. But having the lovely Serena kneel to clean off his shoes was really worth the entire experience, and besides, as a soldier and a CBI agent, he had certainly experienced worse indignities. He would never forget how she had looked up at him from her position at his feet, pale eyes shining with concern, and how she'd taken his hand when he'd insisted she quit worrying about his shoes and stand up.

Her hand had been so soft. And warm.

A couple of Serena's burly relatives, including Jane and Lisbon's dinner companion, Nicollo, had helped Luca inside and propped him upright on a lobby sofa until they could call a taxi to return the siblings to their hotel. Cho had ordered him a cup of espresso to help sober him up, and Serena had looked at him gratefully, while forcing her brother to literally wake up and smell the coffee.

When they'd left the church to walk en masse to the reception, he'd caught up with her and her hung-over brother, who squinted up at the sun angrily. No one that hungover would want to be up this early.

"Good morning," Cho said. _You're even more beautiful in the light of day, _he didn't say aloud.

"Buon giorno," she replied cheerfully. She glanced down at his shoes. He was wearing his spare pair, along with his nicest suit, navy blue. "How are your other shoes?"

He grinned. "They'll survive." He looked politely at her brother, whom, he realized, walked with a slight limp. "How are you, Luca?"

Luca turned bleary eyes toward Cho and rattled off a spate of weary Italian.

"He doesn't speak much English," explained Serena, rather uncomfortably.

"Oh. I think I got the gist."

Cho had awakened with enough hangovers to empathize completely.

They walked on, and Cho surreptitiously admired the aqua blue dress she wore, knee-length and form fitting. Her calves were lightly muscled and flexed sexily in her black high-heels with each step, as she expertly negotiated the cobblestones.

"May I ask something," she said, giving him a sidelong glance. "And you won't be offended?"

He tensed in spite of himself.

"Sure."

"You are Asian, but you speak like an Americano, yes? How does this happen?"

Cho felt his heart plummet into his stomach. Was his heritage a turn-off to her?

"My grandparents came to California from Korea to flee the Korean War. My parents were both born in San Francisco, and then so was I. If you are born in America, you are American."

"Aw," she said. "Forgive me. I was just curious." And when she continued to look at him with intense interest, Cho realized she really was merely curious. He could tell when a woman liked what she saw.

"You are Italian, and you speak like an Italian. How does this happen?" Cho teased.

She laughed, and it was like the whiskey in her laughter made him drunk.

"There are generations of Minellis in Italy, Signor Cho. Minellis come originally from Lombardi. I am just lucky to be born here."

"Yes, you are," he agreed. "And call me Kimball."

"Si. If you will call me Serena." Her attention was divided for a split second, and she stumbled a bit on the uneven street. Cho was there to steady her, and the feel of her warm, slender arm beneath his hand was almost unbearably wonderful. She smiled her thanks, and he actually felt lightheaded. When she'd righted herself with an embarrassed chuckle, he continued to hold on to her arm, as any gentleman would do. At least, that's what Cho told himself.

They continued to make small talk during the short walk, and so enraptured was Cho with Serena that he failed to notice the simmering looks directed their way. By Luca Minelli.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

On the terrace of the Trastavere restaurant, amidst vine-covered trellises and a stunning view of the Tiber River and the distant Vatican, the wedding revelers gathered for breakfast. A quartet played classical and modern selections in one corner of the terrace, and there was much laughter and toasting of the newlyweds, their glasses filled with mimosas. As the best man, however, it was up to Jane to provide the _official_ toast of the day. He stood during a brief lull in the meal, tapping his champagne flute with a knife.

"Signore e Signori, I was honored that Virgil asked me to stand up for him at his wedding to the beautiful May, but I admit that I was actually a bit surprised. You see, much as I like and admire Virgil, I wasn't so sure how the old guy felt about _me_."

There were some scattered chuckles around the tables, most likely those who had heard some of Minelli's _Jane Stories_.

"I admit to causing a few minor…_problems_ for Virgil when he was my boss—" there was a rather indelicate snort from the groom—"but in the end, my introducing him to May must have cancelled out all the ill will he'd felt toward me, and forever secured my place in the Minelli family's good graces. At least, I hope so."

Virgil and the other Minellis laughed, and Jane caught May's eye and winked.

"So, before I do anything to jeopardize my rise in status—I promised, no magic tricks- let me propose a toast. To Virgil and May. Amore lunga e lunga vita! 1 Salute!"

"Salute!" said the other guests, raising their mimosas.

Jane returned to his seat next to Lisbon and took another drink.

"Very nice," said Lisbon wryly. "I'm in awe of your restraint."

Jane grinned. "You don't think I could be trusted to give a wedding toast?"

"Is that a trick question?"

He ignored her sarcasm and sat back in his chair, enjoying the gentle spring breeze, the view, and sitting next to Lisbon.

When the quartet began playing a waltz, Virgil took the hand of his new wife and led her to the dance floor. After a minute or two, they invited everyone to join them, and Jane glanced almost nervously at Lisbon.

"Shall we?" he asked.

"Sure," she said, and then her hand was in his at last.

They had danced before, on a long ago night at someone else's class reunion, and both of them had kept that memory tucked away in their own private lockbox. It had been like a romantic dream, and for a few minutes, it had been as if they were different people. But now as he held her, Jane felt more like himself than he had in years. He inhaled the fresh scent of lemon verbena and found that dancing with Lisbon in the morning sunlight was infinitely more…real.

"You smell good," he said near her ear.

She looked up at him, feeling everything at once—his hand on her lower back, their palms pressing together, his firm shoulder where her other hand rested. Her heartbeat accelerated at the intensity in his eyes.

"Thank you," she said, and she squeezed his hand reflexively.

"Scusi," said Nicollo Minelli. "May I dance with the lovely signorina?"

"No," said Jane, eyes still focused only on Lisbon.

"But Signor Jane, you must share such a beautiful—"

"No. I mustn't," he replied, tightening his grip on the woman in his arms.

"Jane—" began Lisbon, shocked at his rudeness.

Jane glanced at Nicollo, then said something in Italian. Nicollo looked utterly dejected at his words.

"I'm sorry," Jane finished in English.

"Well, then," said Nicollo, and he left them in search of another dance partner.

"What did you say to him?" asked Lisbon, though part of her didn't really want to know.

"It was between men, Teresa," he said, his tone brooking no argument.

"I think I deserve the right to chose who I dance with."

He felt her begin to pull away, and he held her tighter still. "You did. You chose me."

She sighed, knowing that to fight him on the dance floor would only cause an embarrassing scene, and she wouldn't do that to Minelli and May for the world. As a new song began, _At Last_, he showed no intention of releasing her, so Lisbon resigned herself to dancing with Jane again, resting her head on his shoulder and enjoying the feeling of his arms around her. And he did smell divine. She supposed it wasn't all bad, and a small smile of contentment lingered on her lips.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cho watched Serena dance with Nicollo Minelli, the cousins laughing and speaking in their native tongue as they waltzed. He'd been about to ask her when the handsome Italian had beaten him to the punch. He tried to tamp down his disappointment, reminding himself that the pair were related, and hopefully not _kissing cousins_. It wasn't that Cho was particularly shy, but Serena Minelli put him off balance, and if he were honest, that frightened him a bit. And so he'd been uncharacteristically slow on the draw with his invitation.

On the other side of the seat Serena had vacated, sat her brother, downing mimosa after mimosa, well on his way to another drunken stupor.

"You need to stay away from my sister," Luca said in slurred English.

Cho tensed, and dragged his eyes from Serena.

"Oh?" he said.

"Yes. Someone of _your_ kind should not be with a God-fearing Italian."

Cho's fists tightened beneath the table, and his dark eyes became frigid with anger.

"You're drunk," he replied softly, "or I'd knock the shit out of you for that."

Luca laughed, and signaled for a waiter to refill his glass. Straight champagne this time.

"You wouldn't," Luca taunted. "You Americanos, especially the mongrel varieties—you have no honor. You only want to get between my sister's legs."

Cho's chair slid back noisily at his sudden rise to his feet. It had been a long while since someone had pushed him so dangerously close to the edge. He felt the startled eyes of the other guests upon him, and he forced himself to settle down. He made himself lay his linen napkin gently on his plate.

"Excuse me," he muttered, pushing his seat, and walking purposefully to the other end of the roof. He could hear Luca's amused laughter behind him.

Cho's hands tightened on the railing along the edge of the rooftop, as he stared sightlessly at the beautiful city before him. As a Korean-American, he'd experienced his share of racism, and it rarely affected him anymore because he knew it came from ignorance. But this was the first time it had been tied to his interest in someone who wasn't Asian. This is what infuriated the usually unflappable Cho. He'd dated women of all races with nary a comment, and only the occasional curious glance. For the second time that morning, he was actually thinking about race, wondering painfully if it really did make a difference to Serena.

He smelled her perfume on the breeze before he felt her presence, and then the light touch of her small hand on his arm sent a tingle of awareness all the way to his gut.

"Is something wrong?" Serena asked.

He briefly closed his eyes before turning to her with his usual stoic expression.

"No."

"I was hoping you would ask me to dance," she said coyly, and all at once, his doubts about her disappeared. He smiled, dimples and all, and Serena reacted just as most women did to how his smile so completely changed his face. Her eyes widened at the unexpected Cho charm.

"Were you?" he said dryly.

"Si." And she held out her hand.

Though he felt the angry weight of Luca's stare, Cho took her hand and walked with her to the dance floor.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane, Lisbon, and the others watched happily as Virgil and May drove off in their chauffeur-driven Mercedes. They were off to the Amalfi coast for a few days, leaving Lisbon, Jane and Cho to their own devices.

Lisbon noticed Cho in deep conversation with one of Virgil's beautiful young relatives. She caught his eye and Cho guided the woman toward them, his hand on her lower back.

"Boss, this is Serena Minelli. Serena, this is my boss, Teresa Lisbon, and this is a consultant for the CBI, Patrick Jane."

They shook hands all around, Cho slightly disgruntled to see how easily Serena blushed at Jane's own particular charm. Jane saw his annoyance—though only those who knew him well would have even noticed—and grinned.

"You must know I think of Virgil as a sort of father figure," said Lisbon to Serena. "He is such a wonderful man. I'm so glad to see him happy."

"Si," Serena agreed. "I have heard him speaking often of you, Teresa. He has been to Roma twice since he retired. We were hoping he would bring his bride here to live, but la polizia keeps calling to him."

Lisbon looked startled. She'd danced with Minelli at the reception, and he seemed on the verge of telling her something important, but he'd never gotten around to it.

"La polizia?" Lisbon asked.

"Virgil wanted to tell you himself," Jane explained.

"Oh, scusi," said Serena. "I did not know it was a secret."

"He's coming back to the CBI," said Jane. "White collar, though."

Lisbon's eyes brightened. "That's wonderful! I mean, I'm sorry you won't have him here in Italy, but selfishly, I am so glad he'll be coming back to work with us."

"Act surprised when he tells you," said Jane.

"I will. So, Serena, what is it that you do?"

"I work in fashion in Napoli. My brother, Luca, he races cars. Or, he did. He had a bad accident last year and he is fearful of driving again. Driving had been his life." She looked with a worried expression at her brother, who was drunk again and ambling across the cobblestones, hanging on to Nicollo for support as they searched for a taxi.

"Maybe I could help him with that," said Jane. "I got Virgil to quit smoking through hypnosis."

"This works?" Serena asked.

"No," said Cho. "I mean, sometimes it does."

Serena looked at Cho in surprise. He must have sounded like an ass, not wanting her brother to get help. Jane raised an eyebrow, but made no further mention.

"You two want to ride back with us in the car?" asked Jane, hoping he was doing Cho a favor.

"Sure," said Serena, "if you will drop me off at the hotel where my brother and I are staying."

"Of course," said Lisbon.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They met Nicollo coming out of the hotel, and he bent his tall frame over to talk to them through the window. He smiled at Lisbon and nodded at his cousin, Serena, telling her in Italian that Luca was safely in his bed.

"I should see to him," she told Cho, who had ridden shotgun next to the driver. He got out of the car to open the passenger door for Serena.

"Would you like to go to dinner later?" he asked her hopefully. She smiled.

"If Luca is well. You may call me here."

"Okay," he said, and he smiled at her before she turned to walk up the steps of the hotel.

"Nicollo," said Lisbon, "would you like a ride back with us? It'll save you the cab fare."

"No," he said, glancing at Jane's proprietary expression. "Grazie, but I'm sure you want to be alone with Patrick."

Lisbon's looked baffled. Had her feelings been so obvious on the dance floor? "Why would you say that?" she asked him.

He merely smiled enigmatically, waved, and walked back to his waiting taxi. In the front seat, Cho looked straight ahead.

"What the hell did you tell him?" she demanded, once they'd pulled away from the hotel.

Hesitantly, Jane repeated the Italian words he'd said to Nicollo earlier. Cho cringed and sank a bit further down in his seat, wishing he'd gone with Nicollo in the cab. Beside him, the driver smiled wolfishly.

"In English, if you please," Lisbon said tightly.

Jane swallowed, but, in for a penny… "I told him you couldn't dance with him because I'd tired you out last night when I uh, made mad, passionate love to you."

"You did what?" she ground out. She sat a moment, in shock. Then: "Stop the goddamn car!"

They were in the middle of crazy Roman traffic. "_Here_, signorina?" asked the driver, incredulous.

"Si! Here!" The driver pulled quickly to the side of the road, irate horns honking behind them when he cut off several other drivers.

"No," Lisbon amended, "on second thought, Jane, _you_ get out!"

"Lisbon—" he began, trying to hold back his laughter.

"Get out now, or so help me…"

He saw her hand tighten into a fist, and came to the wise conclusion that it was worth walking a few blocks to avoid a sore nose.

He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I'll get out."

With extreme reluctance, Jane got out of the car, but hung back with the door open, hoping she'd change her mind. Traffic whizzed dangerously close and fast beside them, shaking the Mercedes as they passed.

"Sheesh," said Jane. "Has the Roman air made you forget your sense of humor?"

"No, but it nearly made me forget what an ass you can be."

Before he could say another word, she'd reached over and pulled the door shut, locking it with a flourish.

"Drive," she ordered.

Her last glimpse of Jane was the very satisfactory image of him standing, open-mouthed, by the side of the busy Roman strada.

Cho looked back at Jane sympathetically, but said nothing to the seething Lisbon as Jane's familiar frame grew smaller and smaller behind them.

**A/N: I hope you know that Luca's racism certainly does not reflect my own opinions, and that I in no way meant to imply that Italians are racist. This is just the attitude of a character I invented, and unfortunately, even today, there are too many ignorant people in the world.**

**Also, I know the wedding might have been a bit unconventional, as well as the reception—just trying to mix it up a bit. Also, I know Minelli was married once before, so for the sake of the Catholic ceremony, please pretend that he hadn't been married in the church the first time, so his divorce wouldn't count. Or fill in whatever blank that needs to be filled to make what I wrote okay, lol.**

**That being said, I hope you liked this chapter. I warned that our beloved characters would face some obstacles, so here they are. Things will definitely heat up with the lovers in the next chapter, so please stay tuned. And thank you very much for reading!**

**1. Amore lunga e lunga vita!****—**_**Long love and long life!**_


	4. That's Amore!

A/N: You guys are great with all those lovely reviews! I really appreciate your taking the time. As Jane and Lisbon realize their true feelings, they may seem a little out of character at times. But my response to this is, we've never seen either of them truly in love, so who knows what they're like under those circumstances, let alone in a romantic place like Rome. If you are a true romantic (like me), the slight OOC hopefully won't matter a bit.

Now, on with the show…

**Chapter 4: That's Amore!**

By the time Jane found a cab and made it back to the hotel, Lisbon was long gone. He imagined she'd called Nicollo, explained the misunderstanding, and gone on the Roman tour with him a day early. She was trying to get back at him, Jane thought, make him as angry as he'd made her. She'd be happy to know it was working.

Still, Jane wondered what the hell had gotten into him. Why hadn't he just lied and made up something less…incriminating? But he'd fallen into the habit of telling Lisbon the truth lately (mostly), and while he certainly hadn't been honest with Nicollo, staking his claim as her lover was the only thing he could think of to get the shady Italian to leave Lisbon alone. If he were honest with himself, however, there had been a little bit of wishful thinking when it came to that lie in particular, but he didn't feel up to that level of introspection at the moment.

So, he resigned himself to being alone in one of the most romantic cities in the world. After changing from his wedding attire, clad now in his comfortable old brown shoes and three-piece suit, he ventured out of his hotel, intent on enjoying himself. Just outside the building, he met Cho.

"Hi," he said to Jane.

"Hello, Kimball. Are you enjoying Rome?"

Cho almost smiled. "Probably more than you are." He had seen Lisbon leave the hotel with Nicollo Minelli.

"Meh," he dismissed.

"I was just going to find you and ask if I could borrow your rental car."

"Hot date?"

Cho did smile then, but just a little. "Yeah."

Jane reached into his trouser pocket for the Miata keys. It wasn't like he was going to be taking anyone on any romantic drives himself any time soon.

"Here. With my blessing."

Cho took the keys and put them in his own pocket.

"For what it's worth, that Serena seems like a marvelous girl."

Cho nodded. "I noticed that. Thanks. I'll have the car back tomorrow."

Jane both brows. "Well, good for you, Kimball."

"Yes, it is," replied the younger man, who headed to the alley to find where Jane had parked the Miata.

Jane hadn't bothered bringing his city map, having memorized the route he wanted to take, and so he wandered toward the famous Trevi Fountain. Of course, it was glutted with tourists, tossing in their coins in hopes of another visit to Rome. But Jane stood on the outskirts of the small piazza, admiring the beautiful statue of Ocean. He thought about dropping a coin into the fountain himself, but what was the point of returning to Rome if he had no one to share it with?

He was feeling rather sorry for himself, and a bit confused, but seeing the amazing Pantheon lifted his spirits considerably. Its exterior architecture, with its ancient columns, was awe inspiring, but the interior, with the scientific marvel of its domed ceiling, was even more fascinating. He had nearly forgotten his cares, when, upon exiting the temple, he spied Lisbon and Nicollo. He hid behind a column and watched as they approached the entrance, Jane's eyes going immediately to the couple's clasped hands.

Jealousy slammed into his chest with an intensity that left his heart clenching painfully. When he saw someone else holding Lisbon's hand, someone else making her laugh, everything suddenly fell into place, and he couldn't deny it to himself or anyone else anymore.

_I love Lisbon_.

And not just as a friend or colleague, he admitted, although he certainly loved her in that capacity too. No, he was _in love_.

He loved her dimples and her clear green eyes; her intoxicating smell and the tiny freckles on her nose. He loved her when she was angry with him, and worshipped her when he made her laugh. He loved that she knew all of his faults, yet was unfailingly loyal to him, to her own fault, really. He loved how her delicate features made him want to protect her, while at the same time he was well aware she could kick his ass if she wanted. He loved her desire to do what was right, but that she had developed the capacity to see shades of gray. He loved the way she felt in his arms when he hugged her or when they danced. Indeed, he could write veritable sonnets to her beauty and treatises on her spirit. He loved everything about her, yet it was his luck that when he finally realized it, there she was, showering her attentions on another man.

It probably served him right. If there was one religious belief Patrick Jane could latch onto, it was Karma.

He waited perhaps twenty minutes for Lisbon and Nicollo to emerge from the Pantheon, and then, hating himself, though helpless to stop, he began to follow them. They bought gelato (without him!) and sat in the Palazzo Novano, while he stood in the shadows of a hotel awning and watched from afar. They stopped in various shops and Lisbon bought a scarf he doubted she would ever wear, and Nicollo came out with a box of Italian designer shoes (a needless waste of money, in Jane's opinion).

Soon Lisbon and her tour guide (he refused to call Nicollo a _date_) found a sidewalk café for an early dinner, and sat down in the evening shadow of a building. Long pots of short hedges, flowers, and other foliage separated the tables, creating a feeling of intimacy for each table. Red-checked tablecloths charmingly covered the tables, candles burned in small vases, and the waiters were extremely welcoming, ushering them to what they claimed were their best seats.

Jane waited a few minutes for Lisbon and Nicollo to get settled, then he sat casually at a table well shielded from the couple he was stalking. Nicollo's back was to him, but he could just spy Lisbon's face through a bush dotted with fragrant blooms. She was smiling, and Nicollo was helping her with the menu. Jane frowned, but he looked up politely when his waiter returned.

Jane had barely perused the menu, but found himself to be hungry after all that walking. He ordered a tomato and mozzarella salad, (Insalata Caprese) and for his entrée, Cacio e pepe (pasta, cheese, and pepper), accompanied by a glass of fortifying red wine. Despite the delicious food, he had no idea what the hell he was doing here. Did he think Nicollo would attack Lisbon in the middle of some busy piazza or something? He had to admit that the man seemed the perfect gentleman—in public at least. But the thought of him pulling her into some alley when darkness fell, or luring her into his hotel room for some nefarious reason was what compelled Jane to keep on their tail.

He watched as Lisbon and Nicollo engaged in some more (likely) meaningless conversation, and she didn't seem to be faking her smiles or even her laughter. Loverboy was pouring on the charm but good, probably using his best material on the naïve Americana. Hell, if Lisbon could fall into bed with a playboy like Walter Mashburn, what chance would she have against a suave Italian?

"My wife, she is unfaithful too, Signore," said the waiter softly, once he'd delivered Jane's entrée.

The man must have noticed his wedding ring, and noted how he was spying on Lisbon and her tour guide so intently. Jane looked up at him curiously.

"Oh?"

"Si. Women cannot be trusted. Find a lover for yourself, Signore, and you will feel much better. That is what I did."

Jane's lips quirked. "And you are still married?"

"Of course! She makes the best gnocchi in Roma." The waiter patted his substantial gut, gave Jane a conspiratorial wink, and whisked away his empty salad plate.

Jane grinned and dug into his pasta.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dinner was a painfully leisurely affair, and Jane nearly fell asleep in his chair after ordering a second glass of wine. He was still jetlagged and longed for bed, but knew he wouldn't be able to sleep if Lisbon were still keeping company with Nicollo.

At last, Nicollo paid their bill, and Jane did the same, expressing his desire for a hasty departure to the empathetic waiter. He hid again within a touristy souvenir shop, and was relieved when he saw the pair walk past, speaking about retiring to the hotel for the evening. He was about to leave and follow them, when he saw a bracelet with small painted tiles of the saints. It would make an excellent peace offering for Lisbon. Armed with his purchase, he hastened after them.

A half-hour later, he met them in the lobby of their hotel. Lisbon said her goodbyes to Nicollo, offering her thanks as he kissed both of her cheeks. Jane's whole body tensed as he watched the Italian stride to the elevators. Lisbon walked over to stand by Jane as he loitered near the lounge entrance. He felt in dire need of another drink.

"Did you enjoy the show?" Lisbon asked tightly.

"What?"

"Oh, please, Jane. I'm a detective, remember? You've been following us since the Pantheon."

Jane grinned sheepishly. "You can take the cop out of Sacramento…"

"What's the bid idea, Jane?"

It was a rare thing that Jane was at a loss for words. He could tell her an easy lie that she wouldn't believe anyway, or confess the truth—that he was jealous, plain and simple. Neither option was desirable, and the second scared him to death, so he remained silent.

"Nicollo is harmless," she replied for him, saving him from making a decision. "You don't need to worry about me. I can see through his bull, and I understand that he's just trying to get me in the sack. Still, he's fun and charming, and very knowledgeable of the city. Think of all the money I'm saving. Private tour guides are outrageously expensive."

She smiled at him, and he smiled back. "Here," he said, holding out the small paper bag from the souvenir shop.

She raised an eyebrow, but took his offering curiously. "Oh, Jane," she said, "it's lovely!"

She slipped it on her wrist, turning it around to admire each little picture.

"Thank you."

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" he asked, but he was a little nervous of her reply, despite her apparent pleasure in his gift.

"Maybe," she said, but when her dimple appeared, he knew he was once again off the hook. Her forgiving nature was another thing he loved about her. He swallowed hard and looked self-consciously away, fearful that even he would be unable to hide his emotions from her now.

"What are your plans for the evening?" he asked politely.

She stared at him for a few assessing moments, then replied: "I'm exhausted. It was a long day with a very early start. My belly is full and I had too much wine, so I'm going to take a hot bath and hit the hay."

Jane had a brief image of Lisbon in the bathtub and blinked. "Sounds just like _my_ plan," he said, as casually as he could muster.

"Good. Shall we?"

They walked to the elevator, and when Jane's hand went automatically to her lower back, he felt a jolt of awareness pass through his arm, and he dropped it like he'd been burned.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane heard the running of the bathwater, heard the echoing splashes as Lisbon got into her bath. He'd felt a little bit like a voyeur today (okay, a stalker), but it was only because he thought this should have been _their_ time. His and Lisbon's. After all they'd been through, they deserved the chance to be away from everything without being afraid Red John was lying in wait around every corner. It was actually quite a breakthrough for him, to be able to say he deserved anything good after having blamed himself for his family's deaths the last ten years.

He made himself lie down on the bed, flipping on the television to try to distract himself from thinking of Lisbon, naked on the other side of the wall. He watched in amusement an American detective show, dubbed into Italian, and he'd nearly drifted off when he heard a knock on Lisbon's hallway door. He was instantly awake. He went to their connecting door and pressed his ear against the cool wood.

He heard Lisbon pad barefoot to the door, heard her open the deadbolt and turn the knob.

"Buona sera," said Nicollo Minelli. "I bring you a night hat."

Lisbon laughed. "A night _cap_," she corrected.

"Aw, of course. May I come in and share it with you? I can see you must have just come from your bath…"

_Was she wearing a robe? Hair wet? Legs bare?_

"I don't know, Nicky, I'm really very tired."

"Ah, but a glass of champagne will help you sleep."

_Champagne? Kick his ass out, Lisbon._

Jane put his hand on the doorknob and glanced over at his luggage where his lock picks were. It would take him two seconds to get through this door…

When he heard the sound of Lisbon's door closing, his heart dropped into his stomach. Moments later, the pop of a champagne bottle echoed in the room, along with the usual laughter that follows such occasions. He heard the sound of bedsprings—hopefully they were just sitting down—and the clinking together of glasses.

"To us," Nicollo was saying. "Salute!"

"Salute."  
Silence as they sipped.

"Oh, this is very nice," said Lisbon sincerely.

"Si, isn't it? But not as nice as you, Teresa. You are sweet and bubbly, like the champagne."

Jane looked heavenward as Lisbon laughed.

"You are a terrible flirt, Nicky," she said, _rather flirtatiously herself_, Jane thought grumpily.

"Well, this has been very kind of you but really, I'm very tired…"

"Si, I can see that you are. I will leave you then."

Bed springs again as they rose, then their voices were near her door.

"May I kiss you good-night, Signorina?"

Jane's breath caught, his heart skipping a beat while he waited for her reply. It must have been so low that he couldn't hear it, but the ensuing silence told him all he needed to know. His mind raced. He could open the door and interrupt them, or simply knock. But he couldn't do it. It wasn't like he had made any clear prior claims to her, and she had no idea of his big realization about his feelings today. So if this smooth-talking Lothario was who she wanted, well, he wouldn't stand in the way.

He remembered when Lisbon had been listening in when he kissed Lorelei in the CBI interrogation room. He'd known then that Lisbon was in love with him, so that must have been torture for her to hear he was kissing someone else. Sort of like how he was feeling now.

_More bed springs? Holy shit, was she going to sleep with that idiot? _

He heard a few distinctly feminine sighs, and Jane realized there was no way he could listen to this anymore. His heart heavy, his mind reeling, he grabbed his key card, slipped on his shoes, and left his hotel room, closing the door softly behind him.

The downstairs lounge sounded like a very good idea all of a sudden.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_**Earlier…**_

Cho had made reservations for a seafood restaurant on the coast, and when he picked up Serena from her hotel room in the early evening, he was more delighted than he could say to have her alone. No racist brother to put a damper on things.

They were both casual, Cho in black jeans, a gray Henley, and a lightweight, black jacket. Serena wore straight-legged, electric blue pants, black leather flats, a flowing tunic top and a short jacket. A flowery scarf was tied about her neck. Both sported dark sunglasses against the early evening glare.

Cho got out of the Miata and helped her into the passenger's seat, once again trying not to let her beauty put him so off balance. It was difficult, even for Cho.

Serena had pinned her hair up for the convertible ride, and Cho wanted more than anything to press his lips to that beautiful neck of hers, inhale her sensual perfume.

"I'm sorry again for my brother," she said, as they drove through Roman traffic.

At first he thought Luka might have confessed his insulting words, so he kept his face blank, waiting for her to continue.

"He was very drunk again at the reception. He didn't use to be that way, before the accident."

"You don't need to apologize for him," said Cho.

She laughed, unoffended by his brusqueness. "Nevertheless, I have. So now we will forget about Luka and enjoy our drive. Do you like the sea?"  
"Yes," said Cho.

"And we will dine on seafood?"

"If you like."

"Oh, I like," she said, giving him a sidelong smile.

And to his complete surprise, she reached over and covered his hand with hers.

It took them about an hour through traffic to arrive at a beautiful stretch of beach on the Tyrrhenian Sea. Shops, restaurants, and hotels overlooked the warm blue water, and the sun was sinking below the sea, its fading rays turning everything pink and gold. After Cho squeezed into a parking spot down the road from the restaurant, he helped Serena out of the car, keeping her small hand in his. They strolled along the esplanade, listening to the live music coming out of a bar as they walked past and on toward the restaurant.

"You are very quiet," commented Serena. "Are you always this way, or do I make you nervous?"  
He treated her to a rare smile. "Yes and yes."

Her hand tightened in his. "Aw, I see. The strong, silent type. I have heard of men like you. But why do I make you nervous? I will not bite you."

How to answer that?

_Because all I can think of when I look at you is kissing you._

_Because now I know what all the poets have been talking about._

_Because maybe love at first sight isn't just found in classic novels._

"Because you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he said, the safest of his thoughts. "But I'm sure you hear that one every day."

She shrugged. "Only from men who want to take me to bed," she said honestly, though with a hint of disparagement. "But you, Kimball, you are different."

His lips quirked wryly. "I'm not so different."

She gave him one of her throaty laughs that hit him straight in the groin. "I suppose I would be insulted if you _did not_ feel that way."

"Women," commented Cho, shaking his head in amused dismay.

Suddenly, the sun dipped completely below the horizon, and the light changed dramatically from rose to violet. They stopped to view the show, and Cho gathered her to his side, his arm resting on her slim shoulders, his hand cupping her elbow. The flowery scarf at her neck whipped gently against him in the breeze, and when she looked up at him with a smile, he found he'd lost the will to resist her anymore.

Her light eyes widened a fraction as she realized his intent, but she didn't move away, and her hand reached up to touch his smooth cheek. His eyes fluttered closed as his heart slammed against his chest in anticipation. A shudder went through him at the feel of her moist, full lips beneath his, and he hesitated, trying to get his bearings lest he attack her like the lascivious men she reviled. But she didn't want him to stop, and her hand slipped to the back of his head to pull him closer. Her lips parted, inviting him inside, and Cho seemed to lose his last hold on restraint.

He moaned softly as his tongue made its first foray into her hot mouth, meeting hers for a sensual dance. He gladly took what she offered, her taste rich and sweet, reminding him of the cream inside a decadent Italian pastry. Serena didn't seem immune to him either, for he felt her knees nearly give way beneath her, her hands holding on to his strong arms as he held her. But as much as Italians were used to such public displays, Cho was not, so after a few heavenly minutes, he made himself tear his lips away, resting his forehead against hers while they both panted with unfulfilled desire.

"Jesus," Cho muttered, closing his eyes tightly against the nearly unbearable passion she'd ignited within him. He'd never had such an intense reaction to a woman before, and he marveled that if he felt this lightheaded from kissing her, making love with her just might kill him.

The thought made him smile, and he kissed her temple before stepping resolutely away. He put her arm through his and they moved once more toward the restaurant, both of them silent with the shock and awe of what had happened between them.

"Now who's quiet," Cho couldn't resist commenting.

He looked down at her and she gave him a shy smile. "You, Signore, are a maestro at kissing. It makes me wonder what else you are good at."

Cho looked at her enigmatically, but in his heart he hoped she wouldn't have to wonder for too long.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning, Jane awoke to a loud, relentless pounding in his brain. He'd stumbled back to his hotel room around two a.m., having gotten drunk for the first time since his sabbatical in Las Vegas. He remembered now how much easier it had been to remain in a constant state of intoxication rather than face the sickening curse of a hangover.

"Jane!" Lisbon called. "Are you alive in there? It's almost noon."

The pounding wasn't just in his brain, apparently.

The events of the night before came rushing back to him. _Lisbon had slept with Nicollo Minelli._ Jane buried his face in his pillow and moaned.

"Okay, I hear you in there. Open up and come on a tour of the Vatican with me."

"Is _Nicky_ going with us?" he asked childishly.

"No. He was called in to work at his university so I had to make arrangements with a tour company. Get up. We have to meet with them in an hour."

Feeling somewhat heartened, he rolled over, underestimating his proximity to the edge of the bed. He fell on the floor with a thump, groaning pitifully once more.

"Jane, what the hell are you doing in there?"

He managed to get to his feet, holding on to the edge of the bed while the world spun at supersonic speed for a moment. Then he staggered to the door and fumbled to open it. He hadn't even engaged the bolt the night before.

When Lisbon caught sight of him, she visible cringed.

"Holy crap, Jane. Are you sick?"

"No. Well, not yet." His hand went to his mouth.

"Last time I saw you, you were settling in for the night. Did you raid the mini bar? Those little bottles aren't free, you know."

"No. I couldn't sleep, so I went down to the lounge."

She stepped past him, entering his room and shutting the door behind them.

"A nightcap I could understand, but getting drunk? That's not like you."

"Don't you mean a night _hat_?" he said sarcastically.

She paused as the familiar word registered. She gasped angrily. "You were eavesdropping on me!"

"The walls are thin," he said. "And _Nicky _has a very loud voice. I couldn't sleep for all the creaking bed springs and heavy breathing."

She flushed scarlet. _Well, that confirmed things,_ he thought morosely. He went over to the bed and sat down before he fell down in the spinning room.

"Look, Jane, I don't know what you think you heard, and not that it's any of your damn business, but yes, Nicky stayed awhile. We had a couple glasses of champagne, we—"

"Made out like adolescenti Italiani," he supplied. "Tell me, Lisbon, is it true what they say about Latin lovers?"

Her eyes grew cold with barely suppressed rage.

"If you didn't look like you'd vomit on my shoes, I'd clobber you right now. What kind of a girl do you think I am?"

"You mean you didn't-?"

"No! Not that it's any of your damn business," she reiterated.

He grinned. "Well, I'm happy to hear it, Lisbon," he said. When he noticed she wore the bracelet he'd given her, he didn't even feel his headache anymore. But then he frowned. "You like him though, don't you?"

"He's a very charming man, and I could listen to him talk for hours, but beyond that…"

Her voice trailed off, and her meaning was clear. She wasn't attracted to Nicollo, not sexually. Jane would have whooped with happiness if his stomach weren't so tied in knots. Oh, and if Lisbon weren't there to witness it. He glanced over at her with bleary, though relieved eyes, and he realized that in his vulnerable state, he'd given himself away.

"Is that why you left and got wasted?" she asked softly. "You thought Nicky and I…?"

"Well, I was wrong, wasn't I?" he hedged, drawing shaky fingers through his unruly curls. "It happens. Look, let me take a shower and I can be ready to go in twenty minutes. If you'll do me a favor and order me some strong tea and dry toast from room service, I'd appreciate it."

"Sure," she said, but she was looking at him funny, like she was suddenly seeing a different man, a different Jane.

He supposed she was, he thought, and with Nicollo out of the picture, maybe she'd be seeing a lot more of this new Jane.

**A/N: I realize I've been writing mainly from Jane's point of view, and perhaps you are wondering what's going on in Lisbon's mind right now. I'll give you more insight into her thoughts next chapter! Thanks for reading!**

P.S. Thanks to those who pointed out my little inconsistency in my last chapter. Sometimes I make mistakes, and I will gladly correct them when warranted.


	5. Hail Mary

A/N: Your wonderful reviews continue to inspire me, and I thank you all again from the bottom of my heart. This chapter runs the gamut of emotions, and I caution you that it is a strong "T", mainly for language and some mild sexytimes. Enjoy!

**Chapter 5: Hail Mary**

He'd sobered up fairly well, thought Lisbon, as they stood before the old entrance to Vatican City. Jane had been ready in fifteen minutes, and when he'd emerged from the steamy bathroom in ten, they were both surprised that she was still standing in his room. He had a white towel wrapped low on his hips, and was using another to dry his hair, which was why he hadn't seen her at first, and why she'd stood there like a perp in headlights. When he dropped the towel from his head, he stopped short, both of them flushing at her presence.

"Lisbon," he said awkwardly.

"Uh, I was waiting for room service to come with your tea," she explained in a rush.

She moved toward the adjoining door, tried to turn the knob, but of course it was locked from the other side too. She wanted to melt into the floor, but she also had a powerful urge to stare at him. She turned toward the room again, her back to the locked door.

She'd seen him shirtless before, that time when he'd nearly drowned, but her concern for his life had made her miss the nice shape of his chest and arms, the flatness of his stomach. He had more of a swimmer's body than that of a man who visited the gym, but the damp tousle of his hair, the smoothness of his newly shaved cheeks, the water dripping down his torso in fine rivulets—all of these attributes made him infinitely appealing and utterly sexy. She'd realized then that she'd been staring, and her color heightened even more.

_Dear God, what if he had come out of there completely naked?_

That thought had spurred her on to the hall door.

"Sorry. I'll be in my room."

She hadn't seen his amused smile as she'd scurried out his door.

Now, as they waited for their tour to begin, she couldn't look at Jane without remembering that she'd seen him without his three-piece suit just forty-five minutes before. She tried to push the image from her mind and turned to him, putting on her best CBI team leader voice.

"Let me just remind you, Jane, before I regret ever asking you to come on this tour, that beyond these walls is is the center of my faith. No mocking, if you please."

"Mocking?" he said, sounding offended. "I don't mock, Lisbon."

She snorted softly. "Ha. You mock. I know how you feel about religious faith. All I'm asking is that you behave yourself and be respectful."

"I'll admit I mock when religious people are blindly or irrationally devout, but just because I don't believe in all that superstitious mumbo—"

Her eyes narrowed warningly at him.

"Just because I don't _share your faith_," he restated with a properly chastened grin, "doesn't mean I don't respect your feelings about it. I promise I'll be good. Besides, I'm here for the art." His hands came up to grip his lapels and he rocked back on his heels like a salesman. She looked heavenward, not buying his pitch for a minute.

Their tour guide arrived, an Italian man in his sixties with a sparkle in his eye, who passed out earphones attached to a small speaker box. These they clipped to their waistbands. Even in the midst of the pressing crowds and within quiet areas, they would be able to hear the soft narration of their guide. There were about ten in their group, and they were herded in through the modern entrance of the city-state, through security and a milling crowd in the lobby, then up escalators and into a different world.

There passed a pleasant hour, filled with the beautiful courtyards and gardens, statues and sculptures, frescoes, tapestries, artifacts and paintings from some of the greatest artists the world has ever known. Even Jane, as reticent of religion as he was, could not deny the wonder of standing in the middle of the Sistine Chapel, craning his neck up to see Michelangelo's iconic images from the Bible. Lisbon herself was moved nearly to tears, her hand frequently grasping the golden crucifix at her neck. She had never imagined that when the nuns at her Catholic elementary school had described the Holy Father's home, she would actually get the opportunity to visit it.

When Jane noticed her emotional reaction to the Chapel, he took her hand and squeezed it lightly, and she was inordinately pleased that she could detect nary a mocking expression on his face. Instead, he smiled gently at her, and she felt her heart flutter at the undisguised affection she saw there. She returned his smile with misty eyes, squeezing his warm hand right back.

After their amazing experience in the Sistine Chapel, they were given twenty minutes to take a bathroom break, get a drink of water, or find a bench to rest before the tour continued on with Saint Peter's Basilica. When Lisbon emerged from the restroom, she checked her watch to find they had ten minutes to meet up again with their group, and Jane was nowhere to be found. She didn't want to wander too far away herself, but this was the kind of thing she'd worried about when embarking on the tour with him. Jane was a meanderer, easily distracted and bored, like a child in church.

She was relieved when she found him in one of the immense hallways not too far away, standing and contemplating a section of the wall that didn't appear to Lisbon nearly as enthralling as it did to him. Actually, it was devoid of much decoration at all—highly unusual in this museum-like setting.

"There you are. Quit contemplating your navel and let's get back to the group. We're going to be late."

"Oh, hi, Lisbon," he said distractedly, his eyes remaining on the wall. The finger of one hand tapped his full lower lip in thought.

"Jane, we have less than five—"

"Doesn't this part of the wall look like it might open?" he asked. "Look, see how there's a seam here? I bet if you just touched this wall in a particular place in a particular way, it would open."

She gasped softly, looking around lest someone had heard him. "Don't you dare," she said, her words hissing out in dismay. This was just the kind of thing she'd feared he might do.

He looked over at her with a mischievous grin. "Come on, Lisbon. Where's your sense of adventure? This door could lead to a hidden courtyard, or a secret passageway. Old buildings like this, especially those that housed important people, are often riddled with them."

"I'm not interested. Jane, let's go before security hauls us out of here."

Jane raised an amused eyebrow. "Lisbon, there are no nuns around that will slap your hand with a ruler. What's the worst that could happen? We get a Swiss Guard escort?"

"We cause an international incident?" she suggested, wide-eyed.

He chuckled softly. "Oh, please. We're Americans. Now, keep watch for me. That guard over there has his back to us right now."

"No, Jane. Stop!"

But he'd already reached out and touched a spot on the wall about shoulder-height. To her horror, it popped open a crack, just like he'd predicted.

"Ah-ha!" he exclaimed in quiet triumph.

Before she could recover from the shock, he'd grabbed her arm, pulled open the newly revealed door just far enough for them to fit through, and dragged her inside after him. He pulled the door quietly closed behind them, and they were suddenly in the dark.

"See," he said excitedly. "What did I tell you?"

"Actually, I don't _see_ anything, genius," she pointed out angrily.

"Well, let me shed some light on the subject."

He retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open. The pitiful light of the older model barely gave off any helpful illumination, so, with a frustrated sigh, Lisbon pulled out her smart phone. She touched the screen, and the phone's flashlight app lit up their surroundings.

Next thing Jane knew, he'd sustained a bruising sock in the arm.

"It's a goddamn janitor's closet, you idiot!"

Rubbing his arm, he gazed around the small enclosure in rapt disappointment. Various brooms and mops hung on one wall. A shelf of cleaning supplies, a mop bucket, and a floor waxing machine took up the back wall. A shelf on the third wall held packages of toilet paper and paper towel rolls for the restrooms.

"Well, I'll be damned. I was so certain—"

"Okay, so the Vatican's greatest secret is finally revealed, Geraldo," she said sarcastically. "Now get us the hell out of here."

"Calm down, Lisbon. And watch your language. This is a holy place, remember? I bet you were in trouble all the time from the nuns for that sailor's mouth of yours."

He was right, but she'd never in a million years admit it to him, especially now, when she was so angry she could kill him. Literally, with her bare hands. She was sure God would forgive her.

"Well, direct your phone light thingy over toward the door, Lisbon, and I'll—"

Suddenly, the room was flooded with light; she'd found the light switch by the door and they could see everything clearly from the dim, bare bulb hanging from the ceiling.

"Okay, well that works too," he said dryly.

He went to the door and began feeling around it. He pressed and he prodded, but the door remained firmly shut. There wasn't even a doorknob or latch on this side, either.

"You're freakin' kidding me," Lisbon said in disbelief. "You've locked us in a closet in the Vatican." She looked at her watch. "And now we're late for the next part of the tour. We're gonna miss St. Peter's! Thanks a lot, Jane."

He dropped his hand and turned back to look at her. He hadn't recalled seeing her this angry with him in some time. He found it amusing when she was just annoyed with him, but so angry she might spit nails—this he could never handle. At home, he'd be escaping to the CBI attic about now until Hurricane Lisbon blew over. But he was quite literally a captive audience at the moment.

"I'm sorry," he said contritely. "We'll just pound on the door until someone comes and lets us out."

"No! Keep looking for that damned lever or mechanism, or whatever. I don't want to be embarrassed on top of this."

She began pacing back and forth in the five feet of space that wasn't filled with janitorial accoutrement, muttering to herself about childish consultants and lamenting that they were missing the best part of the tour.

Jane, however, stood there without looking further for a way out, watching her vent quietly to herself. When she finally seemed to have expelled the worst of it, her pacing slowed and she realized he'd been silently watching the show.

"What?" she said coldly.

"Just waiting until you finished pouting. Maybe now you can think reasonably."

In hindsight, it was probably one of the worst things he could possibly have said at that moment.

"_Pouting_?" She shook her head in exasperation. "I'm gonna punch your goddamn lights out," she said matter-of-factly, advancing ominously toward him, hands clenched firmly into fists.

Since she'd announced her intent for once, he had time to raise his hands defensively, catching her right wrist before it could deliver a painfully familiar blow. Jane's unexpected resistance caught her completely off guard, and she stumbled into him. His other hand settled on her waist to steady her, and when he looked down into her flashing green eyes, noted the angry rise and fall of her breasts beneath her scoop-necked t-shirt, something sparked and caught fire within him.

"Lisbon," he said as if in warning. And then he closed his eyes and kissed her.

At first she stood stock still, her mind momentarily frozen by what was happening. But when he tilted his head to find the most comfortable way to fit his mouth to hers, she melted into him, her arms coiling about his neck, her lips parting to admit his seeking tongue.

_Oh, God, oh God, oh God…_

The words, both a prayer and a plea, kept echoing in her brain as Jane held her small frame against his. Warm hands slid up her back, playing mindlessly with the tips of her hair as their kiss deepened and their bodies came alive with passion. Her fingers slid all the way to his scalp as she moved instinctively closer. When his hands cupped her denim-clad behind, pulling her against his hardness, she tore her lips away, panting into his shirt. She felt his chin rest on the top of her head, his hands still in her hair, his own breathing raspy and unsteady.

"What the hell…was…that," she asked shakily.

She could feel the motion of his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard.

_That was a very good question,_ he thought, searching his blank mind for the right words.

"I think," he began haltingly, "that it was something we've both wanted to do for a very long time."

"But we were both afraid," she said in agreement. His arms tightened around her, and she felt his lips nuzzling her hair, but then he took a step back, tilting her chin up with his finger to look at her.

"Still afraid?" he asked, and she saw in his eyes a mixture of emotions, ranging from amusement to fear to nervousness, to…something else much deeper and even more frightening to contemplate.

"Terrified," she whispered.

"Yeah, me too," he said. "But you know what they say about facing your fears—"

Taking him by surprise, she tiptoed up to kiss him again, loving that she had finally found a way to effectively silence him and keep him as off-balance as he frequently did her. That kind of power over Patrick Jane might prove dangerously addictive.

Their kisses this time were even more heated, and they forgot about their crazy circumstances, forgot that they were only supposed to be friends and colleagues, forgot that this might not even be real since they were in such a romantic place. It just felt so good to let go for a moment-each of them normally beings of immense self-control where personal feelings were concerned. But what they weren't ready to say aloud, their kisses and their hands said for them.

"This has to be sacrilegious," she murmured, as his lips moved to her neck. She shivered when she felt his warm breath near her ear.

"Think about it later," he said, nibbling on her ear lobe, "after your confessor assigns the requisite Hail Marys."

His hands had moved around her torso to rest beneath her breasts, and her breath caught when she realized where this was all leading-here, in a closet in the Vatican, so quickly after their first kiss. She wondered if she should start saying those Hail Marys now, especially when he began kissing the heated skin just above the small swell of her bosom. His soft hair tickled her pleasantly, and she breathed in the smell of hotel shampoo and the old-fashioned sandalwood of his cologne.

"Patrick," she said, like a benediction.

Hearing the rare sound of his first name on her lips, he raised his head and took her mouth again. He cupped her breasts, his thumbs passing over their sensitized tips. She moaned softly into his mouth and kissed him back so insistently that he found himself stumbling back a few steps, his shoulders making contact with the closet door.

The small _click _was like a gunshot in the tiny room, and Jane gasped and had the presence of mind to step quickly forward before they could fall against the door and land in a tangled heap before a very astonished audience.

"I found the release button," he said, his pulse pounding in his ears. For a moment, she was confused. She hadn't found _he_r-

"Oh," she replied, realization dawning. She held her hand flat against her chest, as if she could stop the hammering tattoo of her own heartbeat.

He met her eyes, slightly bemused. "Shall we go? If we hurry, we can catch up to our group."

Suddenly, the janitor's closet seemed infinitely more…desirable.

"I suppose we should," she said.

Jane grinned. "What a difference five minutes can make," he teased.

"I can still punch you, you know," she said, but her eyes were still dreamy with desire as she stepped toward him again.

Then, from just outside the door came the voice of a young child.

"Mommy, where does this door go to?"

The closet's occupants froze. The kid must have seen the gap around the secret door. Without another word, Jane grabbed Lisbon's hand and slowly pushed open the door while Lisbon switched off the light. When Jane saw no one was in the way, he opened the door quickly and he and Lisbon stepped back out into the corridor.

"That wasn't a bathroom!" Jane announced in mock disappointment.

The mother looked at them in knowing disapproval, and Lisbon couldn't avoid her guilty expression; instead, she brought her hand up in an awkward wave. Jane led Lisbon quickly back down the hall, following the signs that pointed the way toward St. Peter's Basilica. One of the security officers had seen the whole thing and shook his head in amusement.

"Americanos," Jane and Lisbon heard him say as they hurried past.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_**Earlier that morning…**_

In his haste, Cho hadn't bothered to close the drapes of his hotel room the night before, so the morning sunlight spilled in to wake him. He looked down at the beautiful woman in his arms, her breathing soft and deep as she slept, her head resting on his bare chest.

He couldn't believe this had happened. He didn't normally meet a woman one day and take her to bed the next. Perhaps it was the feeling of living on borrowed time that had led him here so quickly. Perhaps it was the romance of Rome. Perhaps when you know it's right, you'd better grab on with both hands or it might slip away. And Cho didn't want to wonder for the rest of his life, _what if?_

Serena must have sensed he was awake, or the sun had disturbed her too, for he felt her stirring against him, felt her warm, full lips press against his side.

"Buon giorno, amore mio," she said with a smile. She propped her chin on his chest to look up at him with sleepy Mona Lisa eyes. He grinned at her, smoothing the lush dark hair he'd taken great pleasure in unpinning the night before.

"Buon giorno," he replied. "Did you sleep well?"

"Si. Very deeply. You are an amazing lover."

He blushed faintly, unused to women being so direct about such things.

"Thanks. You too."

But his words felt exceedingly inadequate for what they'd shared in the night. She was incredibly responsive to his every touch, unafraid to tell him what she wanted, what she liked, whether to go fast or slow. He, on the other hand, hadn't needed to give her any direction at all. She seemed to know how to fulfill his deepest desires; everything she did inflaming him as no woman before her.

Now, she was admiring his bare body in the brightness of the morning sun, experimentally attempting to wrap her hands around his muscular bicep. Her fingertips were inches from touching.

"Dio, but your arms are incredible! You are like a big gorilla I saw in the zoo. It is a good thing I don't break so easily." Her eyes sparkled mischievously at him.

She gave a little laugh as he suddenly rolled her onto her back, emitting a low, ape-like grunt before framing her face with his hands and kissing her wildly. Her fingernails skated lightly down his back and he shivered, his muscles rippling as he positioned his body above hers. She drew up her knees, cradling him there in anticipation.

And then her cell phone rang.

"Don't answer it," he said, already aroused beyond measure.

"I must. What if it is Luca?"

_So what_, was on the tip of his tongue, but he rolled to his back with a groan of frustration while she moved to retrieve her phone from the nightstand.

"Pronto," she answered, then, less brightly: "Buon giorno, Luca."

Cho could hear Luca's loudly spoken Italian on the other end, but he was able to translate a few words here and there, like _slant-eyed Kimchee_ and _whore_.

"Give me the phone," he ordered finally, at the end of his patience with the asshole.

"Kimball—" she began, but he took the phone from her hand.

"Listen," he said, his voice deadly calm. "I don't care that you are her brother. If I ever hear you calling Serena a whore again, I'll rip your fuckin' head off, capisce?"

Cho hung up on him, and the room was suddenly silent, the mood of a few moments before decidedly broken. Serena rose from the bed, walking purposefully toward the bathroom. He watched her beautiful body moving gracefully away from him, and felt something akin to panic.

"Serena, wait. I'm sorry. I just couldn't stand to hear him talk to you like that."

She paused at the bathroom door, then turned around. "He is my brother, Kimball, and he is hurting. Our father is dead, so he is also trying to take his place. Italian men are very protective of their women."

"Well, this _Korean_ man could give him a run for his money. How about the fact that he is a racist, and a drunk, and treats you like crap?"

Her face grew pale. "You must not say such things."

Cho flipped the blanket off and got out of bed, heedless of his own nudity. He stood before her, aching inside because he already cared so much for her, and she was pulling away from him for the sake of her no-good lush of a brother.

"You need to stop making excuses for him. He's a grown man. A car wreck is not an excuse to—"

"You don't know him," she whispered, and then she shut and locked the bathroom door behind her.

He got back into bed and let her have her privacy, but after an hour, he grew frustrated and so slipped on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, then left the hotel room. He'd written a note for her, apologizing again, but he refused to beg.

He met Lisbon in the lobby.

"Hey, Cho. How was your date last night?"

"Good," he said, because it had been. He wasn't about to comment about the morning.

"I was just talking to the concierge to set up a tour of the Vatican for Jane and me. You want to come?"

Part of him wanted to, to run away from the drama he had hoped desperately to avoid with Serena, but he should have known better. The moment he'd intervened in her argument with Luka that first night, he should have realized any involvement with her might be fraught with it. He was finding that Italians were passionate in more ways than one.

"No thanks," he told his boss. There might still be a way to fix this with Serena. "I'll try to get over there tomorrow."

"Okay." She squinted at him, noting how his hair was sticking up in places, his shirt was untucked, and it looked like he'd just slipped his tennis shoes on without retying them. Very unlike Cho to be so disheveled.

"Are you all right?" she asked, reaching out a hand to touch his arm.

"Yeah." And in another out-of-character display, he actually gave a hint of what was bothering him. "I thought Italian women might be different from American women, but they're not."

Lisbon laughed. "That's funny. I thought the same thing about Italian men. I guess people are people."

Cho actually smiled a little, then he shook his head without volunteering any more information. "Have fun," he said, and walked toward the hotel doors.

Maybe a walk and a cup of espresso would help clear his head.

**A/N: Love can be a roller coaster ride, can't it? But don't worry, I promise a happy ending. Thanks for reading! **

**P.S.: Sorry if I offended anyone by having Jane and Lisbon make out in the Vatican. I have great respect for the Catholic faith (and all religions), but absolutely no respect for racists, so feel free to hate Luca.**


	6. The Bumpy Road to Love

A/N: So glad you enjoyed the last chapter, and again, it's perfectly all right to hate Luca. Lots of romance in this next chapter, and hopefully a surprise or two. I hope you like it…

**Chapter 6: The Bumpy Road to Love**

It was difficult for Lisbon to be mad at Jane because her mind was only half-absorbed by the majesty of St. Peter's Basilica. In some ways, the stirring of her blood from their intimate encounter only enhanced the experience of the awe-inspiring church, making all of her senses come alive in their surroundings. He had held her hand as they hurried to catch up with their group, and hadn't bothered to release it once they'd rejoined the tour. As their guide pointed out the wonders of the dome and the nave, she was hyper-conscious of his warm, firm hand in hers. She could still smell his cologne, and every time she looked at him, he gave her a secret, conspiratorial smile. Of course, she knew what he was thinking, because she was thinking it too.

_We just made out in the janitor's closet. _

After the tour ended, they stood admiring the Piazza San Pietro, when Jane suddenly spied a food truck parked across the street. They ordered Panini and bottles of refreshing blood orange juice, which they consumed as they slowly strolled to the Miata parked down the Via Aurelia.

"I suppose we should talk about…things," Jane said around a bite of salami and sliced olives.

Lisbon blushed and looked down at her sandwich. "I don't know what to say. You go first."

"All right, well…I suppose this changes things."

"You think?" she said dryly. She downed some of her orange juice.

"But as I see it, we have one of two—no, maybe _three _possible reactions."

"Hmm. Well, this should be good. Enlighten me."

"You know sarcasm isn't helping things, Lisbon," chided Jane. "And you did ask me to go first—"

"Sorry. Go on."

Jane's lips twitched a bit with suppressed amusement. "Okay then. Number one, we forget this ever happened. Write it off as a mistake. Chalk It up to the romance of the surroundings."

An image of them in a clinch near a row of brooms flashed in her mind. Probably not what he meant.

"Part of me likes option one," she offered. "It certainly would save us a lot of trouble."

"Yes, you're probably right, but I'm afraid recent events are already permanently ensconced in my memory palace. As a matter of fact, this particular memory has an entire room unto itself-roughly the size and description of…a janitor's closet."

Lisbon laughed. "Your memory palace has a janitor's closet?"

Jane looked at her sidelong and grinned. "Why not? If the _Vatican_ can have one…"

She couldn't help the shiver along her spine at his heated gaze. She cleared her throat.

"What's option two?"

"We talk this through, discussing the pros and cons of embarking on a workplace romance. If it seems mutually beneficial to the both of us, we go for it. If not, well, see option one."

But that didn't sound satisfying at all to either of them.

"And option three?" she prompted hopefully.

By the way he hesitated, she could tell that this option was likely his favorite, though it was fraught with the biggest risk. He took a deep breath.

"We go against both our analytical natures and just go wherever this takes us. No questioning, no dwelling on what everything means. If, by the time we get back home, this just doesn't feel right, we'll be honest with one another and take it from there."

This was the scariest idea of all, but oddly, the most appealing, the one that sped up their pulses as well as brought to the surface their long-suppressed desires. But before they just abandoned all reason and followed their hearts (or other body parts), she had a serious question.

"But what if, by the end of our trip, only one of us is into this. Only one of us wants a relationship—"her eyes strayed to his wedding ring—"Then what? How do we work together after that?"

Lisbon already knew that he was what she wanted, that she had been unconsciously, and in recent months, _consciously_ waiting for him. He was why she rarely dated, or had more than a one-night stand. She always imagined that once Red John was out of the picture, Jane would turn to her and see that she had been there for him all of these years, for no other reason than that she loved him, and he would reward her loyalty by realizing that he loved her too. It was a fairy tale notion, but now that they had kissed, and they were actually talking about the possibility of kissing some more, her dream had veered sharply into reality. But it was scary as hell that all this waiting and pining would be for naught, that he still had residual love and longing for his dead wife.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Lisbon," he said evasively. He'd noticed her eyeing his ring, and he realized that would have to be a discussion at some later date. But not right now, not when he felt on the cusp of something life-altering with her.

He smiled a little. "I can already tell that option three is going to be difficult for both of us."

They walked along in silence until they reached the Miata, parked along the street and thankfully not blocked in by another vehicle. If Italians were crazy at driving, they were downright insane in the careless way they parked.

They leaned their backsides against the car and finished their late lunch, contemplating their options. By the time they wadded up the white paper that had been wrapped around their Panini, they had both come to the same conclusion.

"I like option three," Lisbon said shyly, not looking at him as she finished her juice. Despite her reservation, the heart (and other body parts) wanted what the heart wanted.

He left her in suspense when he took their waste and walked over to a public trash bin to deposit it, wiping his hands on a napkin on the return trip. He stopped in front of her on the strada and she looked up into solemn blue-green eyes, her heart racing in anticipation.

"Option three it is," he said at last. And then, his face broke into a delighted grin. "You should have seen your face, Lisbon. It was like you were awaiting a firing squad."

She blushed, and then pretended to be annoyed. "You'd better be careful, buddy, or by the end of this thing, I might round up an actual firing squad for _your _benefit. I know lots of people with guns who would be happy to do the job."

He chuckled warmly at the truth in her humor, then leaned forward and kissed her on her flushed cheek, lingering there until she closed her eyes and hugged him to her body.

"Come dancing with me tonight," he whispered near her ear.

"Yes," she said on a sigh, and they stood there a few moments, absorbing the new intimacy of their embrace along with the warmth of the Roman sunshine.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Cho returned to his hotel room, he figured he had given Serena enough time to dress and vacate the premises. So it was with great surprise that he found her, still in his room, sitting now at the small table on the balcony with an espresso of her own and a plate of croissant and Nutella. The breeze billowed the sheer curtains into the room as he closed the front door gently and walked to the balcony overlooking the busy Piazza Di Spagna.

"Hi," he said simply, his face blank as he waited for an explanation.

"Buiongiorno," she said softly. She indicated the empty chair across from her. "Please, sit."

Cho hesitated. This woman was tying him up in knots, especially with her unpredictable behavior. His coffee run had cleared his head somewhat, and he had come to terms with the fact that their brief fling was over, that the rest of his time in Rome would be a lonely one. Despite his initial thoughts, that perhaps he could mend things with Serena, he'd come to the painful conclusion that he neither wanted nor needed the drama that accompanied the dysfunctional siblings.

But here she still remained, dressed now in yesterday's clothing, looking beautiful and as calm as her name implied. He sat.

"I must apologize for my brother," Serena said tentatively, and he knew she was as nervous as he was. "But mostly, I am sorry for my own behavior. You must understand, Kimball, that I am unused to Luca acting this way. It is as shocking to me as it is to you."

Cho remained silent, letting her get it all out before he decided what he felt about this—about her. Just when he thought he'd known what to do…

"But I like you, Kimball. I think we are very good together. Do you?"

"Yes," he replied without hesitation. The sex had been phenomenal, but the way they related on an even deeper level had been what had made his earlier decision to end things so difficult.

"That is why I have been thinking about your friend, Patrick's offer. To help Luca."

Jane had suggested at the wedding reception that he could help Luca overcome his fear of getting back behind the wheel of his racecar. As much as Cho admired Jane's abilities, he wasn't sure if he wanted the consultant to be involved in his personal life, not to mention that fact that he didn't think any kind of hypnosis could make a racist change its spots.

"That might not be a good idea," he said. "But maybe a trained psychiatrist or even Alcoholics Anonymous could help."

Serena's brow furrowed. "He will not go to such places. He is too proud."

"Then why would he allow Jane to hypnotize him? A person has to be willing, or at least susceptible to it."

She looked askance, and he realized she might not have understood what he meant. "Some people don't take well to hypnosis. It might not work on your brother."

"But it is worth a try, no?" she said, and Cho was having difficulty denying her when she looked so troubled, so upset. Then the waterworks turned on, and he was lost.

"Please, Kimball. I do not know what else to do," she said, reaching for his hand.

Tears were sliding down her lovely cheeks now, her dark eyes sparkling with those she had yet to shed, and it amazed him that she could be even more beautiful because of it. He closed his eyes briefly to be able to think straight in the face of such compelling persuasion. He was used to female suspects breaking down and crying in the interrogation room, and normally he was completely immune. But damsels in distress were Cho's weakness; especially _this _particulardamsel.

He opened his eyes and looked at their joined hands, then sighed and met her imploring gaze.

"Okay. I'll ask him. But don't be too disappointed if it doesn't work. Jane's good, but he's no—"

She was out of her chair and in his arms before he could finish his sentence, raining tear-damp kisses over his face and hugging him tightly around the neck, punctuating each kiss with a softly spoken "Grazie."

Cho brought his hands in to her slim back in resignation, holding her with his strong arms while she thanked him. It was a bit premature, of course, but when she pulled back to kiss his lips, he suddenly forgot all the reasons why getting Patrick Jane involved might be an extremely bad idea.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cho knocked on Jane's door just before dinnertime, relaxed and temporarily satiated after making love with Serena all afternoon. But his nerves kicked up a notch as he contemplated this conversation with Jane. Not that Jane was generally difficult to talk to—difficulties came when the consultant was lying or being evasive. Cho didn't like asking favors of anyone, particularly of a personal nature. He actually couldn't give two shits about Luca Minelli, except that Serena loved him, and he was a relative of his former boss. No, he feared Serena's expectations were too high, and he almost felt like he'd taken advantage of her gratitude in the bedroom earlier, but damned if he could have stopped himself.

Jane opened his hotel room door with his usual charming smile.

"Hi, Cho. How's tricks?"

"Hi. I need to talk to you," Cho said.

"Sure, come on in."

The older man stepped aside so that Cho could enter, and when Jane's eyes began evaluating him in that disconcerting, calculating way of his, Cho had to clench his jaw to remain still and expressionless.

"So, you ready for me to hypnotize Luca Minelli yet?"

Cho blinked, but wondered why the ex-psychic could surprise him anymore.

"Yeah. When could you do it?"

"Well, I have plans this evening," Jane said mysteriously. "How 'bout tomorrow morning? No," he amended with a mischievous gleam. "Tomorrow afternoon."

Cho raised an eyebrow. Maybe he wasn't the only one who'd succumbed to Rome's romantic spell. He allowed himself to wonder briefly if Lisbon had anything to do with it, then he pushed the thought out of his mind.

_None of my business._

"Okay," Cho said aloud. "Should we do it here, in your room?"

"That depends. I somehow doubt the lush has agreed to any of this. It might be better to stage an intervention in _his_ hotel room."

"An intervention?" Cho asked. He really didn't want this to be a big dramatic deal.

"Well, that might be an exaggeration. He might be one that we have to keep in his comfort zone before I slip inside his brain a little."

It sounded sort of like something Dr. Frankenstein might do. Cho was feeling more and more apprehensive by the minute.

"Okay. Serena might know better how to deal with him. She'll be there too."

"Good. I'll call you in the morning to make specific arrangements," said Jane.

"Thanks."

"Well, save your thanks until I succeed. This kind of thing can be pretty tricky."

"Yeah, I figured."

Cho moved back toward the door, and as his hand rested on the doorknob, Jane spoke behind him.

"You really like this girl, don't you? Lots of trouble to go through to win her affections. You must think she's worth it."

"Yeah," said Cho, without turning around. "She is."

"See you tomorrow," called Jane. "Good-night."

The door clicked closed behind him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

At eight-fifteen, Jane knocked on the door that adjoined Lisbon's hotel room with his. He heard her unlock her side at the same time he unlocked his, and when he turned the knob, he almost decided they should change their plans and stay in.

Lisbon looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her, and he felt a certain satisfaction in thinking that he was at least partly responsible.

"I could get used to seeing you in dresses," he told her, his eyes skimming her black fitted bodice in appreciation. He could just see a tantalizing hint of cleavage, and as his eyes rested there a moment, his mouth went dry.

The full skirt of the dress flowed from her waist in some sort of rustly fabric, and he knew it would twirl prettily around her sexy legs when she danced. She'd combed her hair into a deep side part, leaving it hanging in soft waves down her back. At her neck was the familiar gold cross, and on her feet, black, strappy heels.

"Thank you," she replied, and he loved the wonderful blushes she'd been gifting him with lately.

Lisbon didn't mention how she'd rushed out that afternoon to find a dress suitable for dancing. She'd brought the sundress she'd worn their first day in Rome, but besides the formal vintage gown from the wedding, the rest of her clothes were her usual jeans and slacks. She'd found this dress in the first dress shop she'd looked in, and fallen in love with it immediately. Seeing Jane's eyes now, the hefty price tag had been worth it.

Jane wore her favorite of his suits—the navy blue one—but he must have sent out a white shirt to be pressed for a change. And to her surprise, he had traded his signature vest for a lavender and blue paisley tie. With his gorgeous mane carefully brushed into place, he looked like a golden haired prince.

"You might want to grab a sweater," he said, for something to say. The way she was looking at him, it occurred to him again to abandon the whole dancing idea and stay in the hotel. But it would be a shame to waste that sexy dress of hers. She disappeared into her room again and returned with a black cashmere cardigan.

He nodded his approval. "Shall we? I'll meet you in the hall."

She rolled her eyes. "Why'd you knock on this door when we were going to meet in the hall?"

Jane grinned. "I wanted to make sure you were ready."

"We said eight-fifteen. When am I ever late for anything, unlike some people?"

The return of their usual banter, even the sniping kind, put them more at ease, and he apologized profusely and sarcastically for ever doubting her. She shut the adjoining door in his face and he heard her opening the hall door a moment later. He grinned and went to his own door to join her, his heart light with a happiness and hope he had believed was long ago lost to him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"We're going on that?" Lisbon gasped, as they pulled up to Castel Sant'Angelo on the Tiber River.

He had pointed out the large pleasure cruiser docked down a few stairs and then at the end of a pier. The old castle was lit up and beautiful at night, and Lisbon had difficulty taking her eyes from it to focus on the beautiful, long boat they would be taking. Soft classical music floated from the castle on the cool night air as Jane helped Lisbon from the car. He had heard they sometimes held concerts there.

"Yes. Dinner and dancing, just as I promised."

"You left out the part about it being on the water," she told him, but he could tell she was pleased with the surprise. Other passengers were lined up on the pier to board the cruiser. Once aboard, they were led to their table, which was surrounded by a glass ceiling and windows so that they could clearly see the beauty of Rome from all directions.

As the cruiser's engines hummed to life, an elegant waiter served them wine and salad. Jane held up his glass.

"To a beautiful evening," he toasted.

"To our first date," she added.

They smiled and sipped. "This isn't exactly our first meal alone together, Lisbon. We've had plenty over the years."

"But that was before you mauled me in the Vatican. Things are different now."

He grinned, glad she wasn't going to be shy about what had passed between them. "Let's not rewrite history. I was not the only one in that closet in attack mode. It was a mutual mauling."

She laughed over the rim of her glass, and he made a mental note that sometime this night he would kiss that illusive dimple of hers. They were companionably quiet a few moments, drinking their wine while taking in the lights of the city and admiring one another in the candlelight.

"I had an interesting visit with Cho this evening," he said.

"Oh? I had one this morning. Does this concern a certain beautiful Italian girl?"

"Yes, in a roundabout way." Jane described Cho's request and he wasn't surprised to see Lisbon's usual skepticism of such things.

"What if it doesn't work?" she suggested.

"Then it doesn't work. The guy's got two main problems—fear and drunkenness. If I can't get to one, then maybe I can relieve the other. Fear of course is the core issue, but maybe if he's sober, enough time has passed that he can begin to face his fear. You and I both know how important that is."

It was a reference again to their time in the closet, and she caught it and blushed, as he'd intended.

"I guess it's worth a try," she said, refraining from kicking him under the table. "It didn't work for me though."

"That's because you had been drugged. Alcohol shouldn't be too much of an inhibitor for Luca, at least as far as hypnotizing him goes. It actually might even help. We'll just have to see."

"I've never seen Cho like this before, not even with Summer Edgecomb. He's completely smitten with the girl."

"Who could blame him? Have you seen her? She's like a Roman goddess. More power to him, I say."

Lisbon sat up straighter in her chair, her lips going tight with jealousy. Jane was delighted.

"I prefer mouthy American girls, myself," he continued, eyes sparkling. "Not really a fan of damsels in distress, either. I like to know a woman can hold her own in any circumstance, without having to run to me for help all the time. Good old American independence works for me. It's also a good thing if she can put me in my place when I need it."

Lisbon grinned, pleased to know he admired some of the qualities that she liked about herself. "So you're saying you actually _like_ it when I punch you in the nose?"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far, but it's sort of like when a child gets his immunization shots. Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind."

Lisbon laughed. "Then you admit to a need for discipline."

"Oh, most definitely," he said. "But I only tolerate it from certain people. Okay, _one_ certain person. With everyone else, I feel compelled to rebel."

"Ha, you've rebelled against me plenty of times."

He put his hand over hers where it rested on the table. "But I always keep coming back for more, don't I?"

"Because I'm your boss," she said softly, his warm skin touching hers sending her pulse rate through the glass-topped roof.

"Only in the bullpen, my dear," he said, and the wickedness she saw in his eyes made her feel hot all over.

They were interrupted by the waiter bearing their second course, a plate of delicious pasta. Jane dug in with relish, happiest when he was eating, while Lisbon watched him, only picking at hers. She was too nervous to eat all of a sudden.

"Something wrong with your food?" Jane asked her when his plate was nearly clean.

"No, it's delicious. I guess I'm not that hungry."

Jane set down his fork. "I thought we weren't going to analyze this," he chided gently.

"I'm not. Well, not really. I'm just thinking about later," she said honestly.

"Later tonight?"

"Yes."

Her reply hung between them as the small band joined the pianist who had been playing throughout dinner. They struck up an old standard, and couples began moving toward the dance floor.

"What would you _like_ to happen, Teresa?" he asked boldly.

She hesitated, frightened by the intensity of his gaze. "I'd like some of that dancing you promised me."

_Little coward, _he thought in amusement.

Jane let her off the hook…for now. He tossed his napkin onto the table and rose to his feet, holding out his hand to her. She took it gratefully and they made their way toward the other dancers. This time, when Jane pulled her near, there was barely any space between them, and he held her right hand to his chest while she rested her left on his shoulder. He looked down into her eyes for a moment, before settling his lips at her temple and leading her body to sway gently to the music.

Lisbon closed her eyes and reveled in his closeness, in his sexy fragrance, in the way his hips brushed sensually against hers as they moved slowly across the floor. She could feel the heat of his hand at her waist, like a brand. She felt suddenly lightheaded and all melty inside, especially when he began to hum softly along to the familiar old song.

_The way you hold your knife; the way you sip your tea…_

The other dancers faded away and it was only the two of them left in the world. She felt dazed and almost faint, the memory of their earlier tryst adding to the overwhelming experience of being held by him. She had enjoyed dancing with him in the past, but now, all she could think of were his lips on hers, of what it would be like if those lips were free to explore other places. She grew hot with desire, and he felt her tremble in his arms. He held her tighter. When the song ended, she opened her eyes and looked up at him, and Jane noticed immediately that something was off.

"Are you okay?"

"No. I—I need some air."

He didn't say another word, but led her outside the dining room to the forward end of the cruiser. They didn't stop until they reached the railing, and Lisbon took a few deep breaths. One of Jane's hands still rested on her back as she faced the river, while the other held her bare arm as she tried desperately to calm herself. She felt silly, like a girl at her first dance, too anxious to enjoy herself.

"Better?" he asked after a few minutes.

She looked sheepishly up at him. "Somewhat."

But he was still touching her, and that was definitely not allowing her to calm down completely. Even without his amazing observational skills, surely, she thought, he had to know what she was feeling.

"Maybe I can help," he whispered, and by the look in his eyes, she knew he understood.

His mouth came down on hers and she made an incoherent noise in her throat. He'd been dying to do that all day-hell, for years-and this time there was nothing tentative about his kisses. They were fiery and demanding, and he didn't care that others might be witnessing his passionate loss of control. It was like a dam had burst within his heart, and the love he'd felt for her had come crashing through with devastating, unstoppable force. He wanted her, needed her, and he didn't want to think about the repercussions of this. When he'd felt her tremble in his arms on the dance floor, Jane knew she was feeling the same way.

"Oh, Teresa…how I want you," he panted near her ear, and he wondered if she could hear him over the pounding of his heart. She found his mouth again in answer, and began kissing him back with a raw passion that had him shaking with desire. But there was nowhere on this very public boat to take her and end their torture, and he felt like kicking himself for not thinking this thing through.

He tried desperately to slow things down, using every biofeedback trick he knew, until finally he reluctantly pulled his mouth away, his trembling hands sliding to her upper arms, feverishly hot in the cool night air. He found the strength to step back and release her. She would have stumbled had the railing not been close by. She gripped it like a lifeline.

"Maybe dancing wasn't the best idea," he said at last, both of his own hands now tight upon the railing. Lisbon mimicked his stance a safe distance away, and he could still hear her heavy breathing above the distant music.

"Yeah," she said. "Whose dumb idea was that?"

He chuckled tremulously, one hand going to his hair in frustration.

The cruiser was floating past Tiberina Island, and he made himself focus on the beauty of the ancient structures upon it, rather than the beauty of the woman beside him, who had suddenly become an irresistible distraction.

"Maybe we should go back inside," he suggested. "They were about to serve dessert."

Now normally the thought of something sweet and fattening would have been more than enough to entice Lisbon, but in truth she wished she was in his arms again, tasting the delicious temptation of his mouth. But that, as they had both discovered the hard way, was too dangerous to do in public.

"Okay," she said.

With a Herculean effort, he kept his hands off her as they returned to the dining area. They sat across from one another, and the waiter brought them a large slice of chocolate torte, along with two forks.

The chocolate reawakened Lisbon's appetite and she playfully fought with him for choice bites, laughing triumphantly when she secured the last piece. He watched as she brought the cake to her lips, and the moment she opened her mouth to slip the rich forkful into her mouth, she caught his eyes. Her movements had unmistakably aroused him. She felt the power of her feminine wiles engulf her, and made her last bite exaggeratingly sensual.

"Hmmm," she said, then grinned at his expression as she chewed. She was glad she wasn't the only one excited by innocent gestures these days. "That was incredible."

He came back to himself and realized what she'd done.

"Tease," he muttered, then took a long gulp of wine.

The rest of what was supposed to be a pleasurable cruise up the Tiber and back had turned into an interminable torture. They didn't dare dance, and when they went back out on the deck they kept their hands to themselves. It made even the beauty of Rome at night somehow less enjoyable.

Jane couldn't recall ever feeling this worked up over a woman, not even, as he painfully admitted to himself, over his wife, even before they were married. It was the intimacy of having known Lisbon for nearly a decade, the years of longing that he'd suppressed for both their sakes. At first it had been because he'd felt guilty about his feelings, that he was somehow betraying Angela. Then he'd pushed away his desires because he knew he didn't deserve her, not after all he'd done and all he'd been in his former life. But ultimately, he'd denied himself because he feared what Red John might do if he discovered Jane's new weakness.

Too late for that, he knew. Lorelei Martins had deduced it upon her first meeting with Lisbon, and Red John had dressed Lorelei to look eerily like Lisbon from the beginning. Red John knew how he must feel about Lisbon, so why should he deny himself any longer? He had learned that he had absolutely no control over what the serial killer did, and maybe keeping Lisbon close might be the only way to protect her.

"You're serious all of a sudden," she said, when his silence seemed to have taken him too far away from her.

Other couples who were not dancing had made their way out to the deck, speaking in a variety of different languages, laughing and commenting excitedly on the splendor around them. Some even kissed passionately while everyone else just smiled knowingly or ignored them. They weren't alone, and this wasn't probably the best of times, but Jane found that if he didn't say the words at once, he was in danger of collapsing beneath the weight of them.

"I love you, Teresa," he said.

She gasped audibly beside him, and he almost smiled at how shocked she must be.

"And don't worry; I'll remember saying this tomorrow," he added dryly.

He turned around, resting his back against the railing to look at her. She was looking at him like he'd just presented her with a vat of flesh eating worms.

"I don't believe you," she said, feeling decidedly dizzy again.

"It's true—"

She held up a staying hand. "No, I _believe_ you. I just can't believe you'd confess this to me in the middle of a river, surrounded by a boatload of people."

"I could arrange to spell it out in roses…"

Her hands came up to cover her face, her dark hair falling like a curtain over them. She groaned softly.

"Lisbon—"

"Just shut up a minute, will you?"

She dropped her hands and found the courage to meet his eyes. Hers were glittering with unshed tears, and his, anxious for her reply, even though he was quite sure she returned his feelings.

"I love you too," she said at last, her voice trembling over the words. She reached to wipe at her eyes with the backs of her hands.

"Well," he said, smiling from ear to ear. "That begs only one question then, Lisbon. Your hotel room…or mine?"

**A/N: I suppose you can guess what's happening in the next chapter, eh? I thought it would be nice if they admitted their feelings for a change before they jumped into the sack. Thank you for reading! **

**By the way, the chapter title and the snippet of lyrics are the old Gershwin tune, "The Can't Take That Away." Just in case you were wondering.**


	7. Il Linguaggio dell'Amore

A/N: Thanks to all who have reviewed and keep on reviewing this fluffy fic. I really appreciate it.

This chapter is mostly "M" rated, but a soft, romantic "M". I really try to be tasteful and just imply most of the "M-ness," so don't be afraid to continue. I've never written a chapter quite like this, and those who have read my other fics will see what I mean. I'm anxious to hear your thoughts. Enjoy!

**Chapter 7: ** **Il Linguaggio dell'Amore**** (T****he Language of Love)**

They almost didn't make it to the hotel.

After Jane and Lisbon disembarked from the boat, he took the risk of holding her hand to help her down to the dock, then going up the stairs to the walkway along the Tiber. The feel of her hand in his was nearly unbearable. It reminded him of how they would soon be skin on skin in other ways.

Not far from the car, he stopped abruptly in the shadow of an umbrella tree for a quick, hard kiss that left them both breathless. Lisbon clung to him for a moment, off balance once more by the heat between them. He smiled softly at her.

"We're going to be so good together," he whispered.

"I thought you didn't make psychic predictions anymore," she teased, reaching up to trace his lips with one light finger.

He caught her hand and kissed her knuckles, his eyes glittering at her in the dim light. "Oh, Teresa, there's nothing psychic about it. It's simple biology."

He pulled her close to his very aroused body, and her eyes widened. Wicked, seductive Jane would take some getting used to.

"Where's the car," she said.

Jane drove fast, as usual, but for once, Lisbon didn't complain. She held on for dear life as he weaved in and out of traffic (thankfully light that late at night). Her laughter was gleeful and free, and she realized that while Jane might travel at reckless speeds, he was actually very skillful in the way he handled the car. She suddenly found this unbearably sexy. Funny how her perspective had so radically changed, now that they had both admitted their feelings. It was like the weight of the world had been lifted from her formerly tense shoulders, and now all she felt was joy and freedom.

When Jane stopped the Miata before their hotel, Lisbon was giddy with exhilaration and anticipation. Jane tossed his keys to the valet and he grabbed Lisbon's hand, practically running to get inside. The minute the elevator door closed, they were in each other's arms, their mouths fusing together, hands delving into sable and golden locks as Jane pushed her back almost roughly against the wall of the small enclosure.

They nearly missed the dinging of the elevator as it stopped on their floor, only breaking apart when the door slid open and a waiting passenger cleared his throat. Lisbon blushed to her hair, and Jane grinned, nodding to the smiling Italian.

"Buonanotte," said Jane politely.

"Aw," replied the stranger. "Amore a Roma...que bello!" 1

Jane laughed as the man disappeared behind the doors, and he pulled Lisbon in for another kiss. They stumbled down the hallway toward their rooms, drunk with love and the more subtle effects of the wine, stopping every few steps to kiss and caress. Finally, they stood before Lisbon's door, and she gave him a mischievous glance when she reached into the bodice of her dress and pulled out her key card. His eyes darkened in appreciation of her resourcefulness, and he took the card from her, swiping it quickly, his lips on hers again as his hand pushed open the door.

Once inside, they didn't hesitate. Lisbon slid his suit coat off his shoulders, and he shook his hands out of the sleeves without breaking their kiss. His tie was already askew, and Lisbon attempted with unsteady hands to untie it before wrenching it free, going immediately for his shirt buttons. Jane's nimble fingers found the back zipper of her dress and he pulled it down, his hands parting the fabric and resting at last on her bare back. She shivered against him, and his hands slid lower to cup her bottom through her silky panties.

She gasped against his mouth, her hands still fumbling with his buttons. He was distracting her from her task by kissing her neck, then nuzzling the low neckline of her dress, his breath hot against her skin. She only realized he'd been walking her backward to the bed when she suddenly found the mattress pressing into the backs of her knees. She fell against it with a bounce and a startled inhalation, her hands catching herself before she could fall completely onto her back. He smiled down at her, enjoying the look of surprise, the green eyes dark with passion, the red and swollen lips, the hair wild around her bare shoulders. She was glorious.

He finished unbuttoning his shirt as she watched, breasts heaving. She itched now to caress the smoothness of his chest, her whole body shaking as he toed off his shoes, while his hands went to his belt, then to the fly of his slacks. She never imagined, even in her wildest dreams, that he would give her a strip tease, but here he was, revealing his lithe body to her greedy eyes, the bulge in his boxer briefs causing the air to hitch in her throat.

Then he turned his attentions completely back on her. He bent to give her a brief kiss, then he knelt before her on the floor, removing her shoes one at a time, pausing to caress each foot before his hands moved to her ankles, then glided up beneath her full skirt to her toned calves, then upward still to stroke her soft inner thighs. His eyes never left hers, and Jane could feel her legs begin to tremble when his fingertips touched the lower edge of her panties.

He leaned forward then to kiss her, his tongue slipping into her mouth while one finger slid beneath the elastic at the apex of her thighs. Her legs automatically fell open for him. She moaned into his kiss when he found the wet heat of her and began a slow, intimate massage. After a few torturous moments, she tore her mouth away so she could breathe.

"Oh, God," she said raggedly. "Jane…"

With his free hand, he pulled her loose bodice away from her breasts, kissing his way to the cleavage revealed by her strapless bra. She heard him murmuring mindless endearments, romantic praise of her beauty, before he pushed the flimsy garment aside to take one rosy tip into his mouth.

Lisbon had been resting on her hands, but the need to touch him had her sitting up, holding his head to her bosom. His fingers still worked within her as he gave her other breast equal attention, and she felt like she was hovering upon a dangerous precipice, waiting to fall into oblivion. When he employed his thumb, she tumbled over into space, her release slamming into her body, her hips rising from the bed. He leaned forward to smother her cries with his mouth, the fabric of her dress rustling between them as she convulsed against his hand.

She lay back against the bed, her limbs numb, her pulse racing uncontrollably. As if from a distance, she felt Jane stand and, like the magician he was, make the rest of their clothing disappear almost without her feeling it. She caught a disappointingly brief glimpse of his naked form before he moved her further up on the mattress, covering her body with his own. It felt incredible, almost impossibly pleasurable. His hard length pressed against her stomach as he settled his weight upon her, and she looked into his eyes, surprised to see pure happiness there.

"That was just Act One," he assured her with a small smile.

"I'm not sure I can make it through the entire performance," she said, still breathless.

His eyes clouded with concern. "Teresa, are you really ready for this?" he asked.

She could feel his rapid heartbeat keeping time with hers, and she wondered what method he was using to have found the restraint to hesitate when their naked bodies were pressed so closely together.

Lisbon held her hand to Jane's cheek, looking deeply into his eyes. "I've been waiting for you for nearly ten years. I'm more than ready."

That was plain enough for him.

He kissed her again, his hands tenderly framing her face. Then, with a dip of his hips, he smoothly entered her body. She never dreamed that joining with someone could feel so much like finding her other half, that this moment was what she'd been waiting for since Jane had first arrived at the CBI, broken and alone. It was the culmination of every touch, every hug, every tear she'd shed for him. She wrapped her arms around him and bent her knees to welcome him home.

Jane uninhibited was like a force of nature. While he thrust wildly, his mouth and hands continued to tease and arouse her to greater heights, overwhelming her with his passion and his near frantic movements. He felt he was releasing at once all of his pent-up emotion, all his longing for her that had built up for years, as if there were no tomorrow, as if this was both their first _and_ their last time.

Lisbon cried out for the second time, and Jane slowed his thrusts as she rode out her climax, absorbing her spasms into his body. Her trembling ignited him further, and he picked up the pace once more. She must have felt him nearing his own peak, for she revived quickly and met him thrust for thrust, establishing a sensual rhythm that brought him to the brink of ecstasy.

With a long, slow moan of indescribable pleasure, Patrick Jane finally stopped fighting fate and let himself go…

Xxxxxxxxx

When they could move again, they climbed beneath the bedclothes, and Jane pulled Lisbon to his side where she nestled against him. He lovingly stroked her hair, his mind blissfully blank except for the deep feeling of contentment.

"We should have done that a long time ago," said Lisbon happily, and he felt her smile against his chest.

"Maybe, but it means more now, I think."

"Yes," she said, kissing the bare skin of his torso. "Now, it means _everything_."

"Did I live up to your fantasies?" he asked with a small smile.

"Who says I've fantasized about you? Conceited much?"

Lisbon felt his laugh rumble beneath her ear. "You've been in love with me for years, Lisbon. Don't tell me in all that time you haven't wondered what it would be like if we slept together."

She really couldn't deny either of those contentions, but it really wasn't nice for him to mention it.

"Well, even though you certainly are in no need of an ego boost, I'll admit to having wondered, from time to time."

"And…?" he prompted.

She rested her chin on his chest and looked up at him. "You know, I really thought you were above such petty masculine insecurities, Jane."

"No, I'm really not."

She shrugged. "Well, you show me yours…"

"Oh, I'll admit to having many a fantasy about you, Lisbon. I'm not always asleep on my couch when my eyes are closed-especially on those days when you wear those tight black jeans of yours."

"What?" she said, sounding appalled. "You've checked out my ass?"

"On several occasions. Sorry if that bursts the puritanical bubble you've kept me in."

She raised her head and smiled softly. "If only I had known how you really are," she said wistfully.

He bent his head to bestow a lingering kiss on her mouth. "Neither of us were ready. Now, your turn."

"Okay. Funny you should mention your couch," she said, blushing despite what they had so recently done together.

"Oh?" He chuckled. "Do tell."

"Well," she continued, and she slid her naked body directly atop his. His eyes lit up with renewed interest. "My favorite fantasy starts when everyone has left the office, and you're sound asleep on the couch."

"Really…?"

She nodded, holding his eyes as she gently undulated upon him. She could feel his burgeoning desire stirring against her thigh.

"Then, I would stealthily reach for your fly—"Her hand moved down between them—"while at the same time, kissing those incredible lips of yours."

"Hmmm," he purred, as she molded her mouth to his and moved one hand up and down his length.

"You would wake up and you'd be ready for me," she whispered, a centimeter from his mouth. "Just like now."

She reached down to position him, then she lifted her hips, hesitating a moment before settling back down until he was completely sheathed within her.

"You certainly have a very healthy fantasy life," he hissed through his teeth, his hands coming up instinctively to her waist.

He guided her tantalizingly slow movements, driving them both to the edge of madness. She leaned her head back, closing her eyes in exultation.

"Reality," she said with a moan, "is…ohhhh…so…much…better…"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Neither of them got much sleep that night, but the next morning, Lisbon awoke early out of habit. She watched Jane in slumber, his face peaceful and angelic, which totally belied his wickedness of the night before. She was very tempted to wake him and see what other sexual tricks he had up his proverbial sleeves, but she knew he was normally a chronic insomniac so she let him sleep.

She slipped carefully out of bed and padded naked to the bathroom. She smiled at how she ached in places she hadn't felt in years, reliving the surreal night of their amazing lovemaking. Like she'd told Jane earlier, never in her wildest of fantasies had it been that good.

She shut the bathroom door and turned on the shower, hoping the noise didn't wake him, and soon she was lathering up, wishing that the small shower were big enough to invite Jane to join her. She hummed softly, continuing the song they'd danced to the night before. If he weren't so soundly sleeping, she'd sing to the rooftops. She'd never been this happy in her life. She loved Patrick Jane, but what was more, he loved her, and had told her so several times in the night.

As her soapy hands glided over the places Jane had lovingly kissed and caressed the night before, she shivered, then smiled, a richly feminine smile she shared with other lucky women from the beginning of time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane awoke from a dreamless sleep to the sound of someone pounding on the door.

"Lisbon," he murmured, eyes still closed. "The door…"

The insistent knocking continued and he spread his arm out to reach for her, but the bed was empty. He fuzzy brain zeroed in on the sound of the shower running, and he got up with a sigh.

He found his slacks and pulled them on, walking blearily to the door. When he looked through the peephole, he grinned.

_This was going to be so sweet._

He opened the door to a surprised Nicollo Minelli.

"Oh…Patrick," he said. "I must have the wrong room. I was looking for Teresa. I was going to make up missing the Vatican tour with a tour of the Colosseo." He held up VIP passes.

Jane leaned one arm on the doorframe, unashamedly shirtless and barefoot.

"You have the right room."

As if on cue, Lisbon called out from the bathroom: "Jane? Is someone at the door?"

"I got it, sweetheart," he called, his smile in his voice.

Nicollo shook his head at the brief, intimate-sounding conversation.

"I thought you might have been exaggerating your relationship with Teresa," he said. "But I see you were telling me the truth after all."

Jane shrugged. It wouldn't hurt to fess up now. "I admit I jumped the gun a little before, but I have sort of a sixth sense about these things."

"Aw, yes. Cousin Virgil told me you used to be something of a soothsayer."

"There's no such thing as soothsayers," Jane replied, deadpan.

Nicollo smiled, graceful in defeat. "Well, then, you must have these, with my blessing." He presented Jane with the passes. "One should not come to Roma and miss the beautiful Colosseo. You are a lucky man, signore."

"Grazie, Nicollo. That I am." He pocketed the passes. Lisbon would love them.

They shook hands, just as Lisbon emerged from the steamy bathroom wrapped in the hotel's fluffy terry cloth robe. She peeped over Jane's shoulder to see their visitor, then blushed with embarrassment at being caught in such an informal state.

"Nicollo," she said. "I'm sorry. Did we have a date?"

"No, no, Teresa. As I was telling Patrick, I was trying to make up for having to stand you up yesterday. But it was not to be, signorina. I see you are otherwise…engaged."

Jane put his arm around her, inhaling the fresh scent of her soap.

_Clean and fresh Lisbon—better than any expensive perfume. _

He kissed her temple possessively.

"I'm sorry, Nicollo," she said sincerely, and she didn't just mean for the tour.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, bellissima. Sometimes Roma, she gets the better of us, eh?"

Lisbon gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Si," she agreed. "It was nice meeting you, Nicollo," she said, extending her hand. He took it, but then pulled her close enough to kiss her on both cheeks in a lingering fashion far more intimate than the usual Italian greeting..

Jane raised an irritated eyebrow, but Nicollo only grinned.

"A taste of paradise is better than nothing at all, my friend…Buona fortuna. Ciao!" 2

He gave them both his most charming grin and left them in the doorway.

Jane shut the door behind him and turned to Lisbon.

"What a charming man," she said wistfully.

He took her into his arms. "Regretting your choice?"

She pretended to think a moment, and Jane's eyes took on their usual amused sparkle. She looked up at him coyly from beneath her eyelashes, her hands tracing his bare collarbones.

"Not if you speak to me in Italian sometimes."

His hands found the belt of her robe, and he slowly untied the loose knot.

"Aw, signorina," he said, his accent perfect. "Sei bellissima. Sei dolce com il miele. Baciami," he said, brushing his lips over hers. 3 His hands parted her robe, and he cupped her breasts. "Andiamo a letto," he whispered. 4

She didn't even care what the words meant. Hearing the romantic language while he caressed her so intimately was making her insides melt.

He pushed her robe off her shoulders, kissing her neck beneath her damp hair. The robe puddled at her feet, and when she stood before him in all her naked glory, there was nothing to do but pick her up and carry her to the bed.

"Ti amo, Teresa," he said simply, his eyes solemn now in his sincerity. 5

She understood what that meant, and smiled at him, utterly enamored.

"I love you too, Patrick."

Then neither of them spoke for a very long time; at least, not in a language anyone else could understand.

**A/N: I think that was one of the longest love scenes I've ever written, lol. I guess the remembered romance of Rome got me carried away. Back to Cho and his problems in the next chapter. If you decide to bless me with a review, please be sure to log in so I can answer you personally. I've got access to high-speed internet again! Yay!**

**P.S.: In case you don't already, you can follow me on Twitter. I'm Donnamour1969 there as well. I give story progress updates and can engage in endless Red John theory discussions at the drop of a hat. Hope to see you there!**

_1.__Love in Rome. How beautiful!_

_2.__Good luck. Good-bye._

_3.__ You're beautiful. You're sweeter than honey. Kiss me._

_4.__Let's go to bed._

_5. __I love you._


	8. Destinations

A/N: Wow! Your reviews for chapter 7 were really inspiring! Thanks so much. I'm so glad you are enjoying the romance of Rome. I actually teared up while writing this next chapter, wishing that I could go back there and see a few things that I missed. Just the ambiance of the city—I can't even describe it adequately.

Anyway, this chapter has more romance, more Cho, resolutions of a problem or two, and more of the sights of Rome. Enjoy!

**Chapter 8: Destinations**

Kimball Cho ordinarily had the patience of Job, but this thing with Serena and Luca Minelli had him a bit anxious. He wanted things to be better for Luca so they in turn could be better with Serena, and so he could stop that drunken, racist asshole from ruining the rest of his time in Rome with her. So when it was past ten o'clock that morning and Cho still hadn't heard from Jane, he went against his basic nature and called him.

It took about four rings before the consultant answered, and when he did, he sounded a little breathless.

"Uh, hey, Cho," Jane said. "I was about to call you."

Cho resisted giving a sarcastic reply. "I saved you the trouble. Are you coming sometime today?"

There was a muffled laugh. "Oh, yes, definitely."

Cho rolled his eyes. He recognized a double entendre when he heard one. Jane had a woman in his bed, and while Cho had his suspicions, he didn't feel curious enough to ponder whom; he had his own woman to worry about.

"I'm at Serena and her brother's hotel. She's kept him from drinking this morning, and kept him in his room, but I'm not sure how long that will last. If we're going to do this thing, it'd better be soon."

There was a hesitation, a rustling of bedclothes, and some distinctly feminine laughter.

_Dammit, Jane. I need you to be serious for once._

"I'll be there in an hour," Jane finally replied.

"Good. Thanks."

"Oh, Cho—can I bring Lisbon?"

_Earlier suspicions confirmed,_ thought Cho absently.

"Sure." As if he could say no to his boss.

Cho ended the call and then punched in the number of Serena and Luca's suite.

"Pronto," she answered, in that sensual voice that never failed to excite him.

"Jane will be here in an hour. How's Luca?"

"Finishing his breakfast," she whispered, obviously cupping her hand over the phone. "Complaining there is no amaretto for his coffee. What do I do, Kimball? He wants to go down to the bar."

"Stall him as long as you can. Call me if he comes down. I'll see if I can stop him down here."

"Si. I will try. But your friend had better hurry."

"Yeah."

"And Kimball?"

"Yeah?"

"Grazie. This means so much to me. I will repay you for your kindness, I promise. _Anything _you desire," she finished, her tone definitely seductive.

Cho felt a wave of heat go through him at the promise in her voice, and he grinned widely. "I'll hold you to that."

She chuckled softly. "Ciao."

"Bye."

Cho returned his phone to his jeans pocket. He'd been standing outside the hotel for privacy, and stepped back inside the lobby to wait. He hoped Jane would stop fooling around and get his ass in gear.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Fifty-nine minutes later, Jane and Lisbon arrived after walking the two blocks to the hotel. Cho met them at the door. He lifted an eyebrow but didn't comment at the clasped hands of his coworkers. He was happy if they were happy, but thought fleetingly that he'd kick Jane's ass if he ended up hurting Lisbon.

"I just got a call from Serena and was about to head up there. He's chomping at the bit to leave," said Cho without preamble.

"Jane told me what was going on," said Lisbon. "You have my help if you need it." She'd had her own experience with a drunken relative, so could totally empathize with Serena.

Cho nodded, sincerely grateful. "Thanks. Let's go up."

Down the hall from the suite, they could already hear the siblings engaged in a heated argument. Cho trotted quickly ahead of Jane and Lisbon, but Lisbon caught up with him.

"Wait!" she said softly, staying him from breaking down the door with a firm hand on his arm. "Jane said you two don't get along. Let me knock. He might calm down if it's someone other than you is at the door."

Cho stepped out of view of the peephole, and Lisbon knocked loudly on the door. The arguing continued. Lisbon knocked again, and by that time, Jane had joined them.

"They're arguing about his drinking," Jane translated softly to Cho. "And…you." _No surprise there._

"Serena!" Lisbon called. "It's Teresa Lisbon. May I come in?"

The bickering abruptly ceased and they could hear footsteps just inside the door. Serena opened the door her face red with anger, and her eyes watery with unshed tears.

"Teresa, so good to see you. And Signore Jane—"

"Patrick, please," said Jane.

"Luca, come see. We have visitors. Please, come in," she said to them. She caught sight of Cho outside the door and shook her head.

_Wait here, _she mouthed.

Before he could reply, she had shut the door and Cho was left alone in the hall.

There passed another slow hour in which Cho alternated leaning against the wall, his arms folded anxiously across his chest, or taking quick circuits around the hallway past other rooms. He was about ten feet from the suite again when Serena stepped outside. She looked at him, her lovely face still clouded with distress.

"What's going on?" he asked when he stood before her, taking her cold hands in his.

"Patrick and Luca are in his bedroom alone. Teresa says he is perhaps hypnotizing him now. I do not know, Kimball. Luca was so…unreasonable. I was afraid to leave him alone with Patrick, a stranger."

Cho took her in his arms, holding her tightly and smoothing down her dark hair soothingly.

"Jane knows what he's doing," he said. _I hope._

He held her that way for a few more minutes, feeling himself calm down as she did. It felt like their entire budding relationship rested on Jane, and that wasn't particularly comforting. Not that he didn't admire Jane's abilities, but if something went wrong…

Lisbon was at the door now, and she peeped outside.

"Excuse me, but, Jane and Luca just came out of his room. Jane says you should come in too, Cho."

Serena glanced up at Cho, worry knitting her brow. The three of them silently entered the living area, to see Luca sitting serenely on the couch. Jane rose to greet them.

"You will find that Luca has had a change of heart on a few things," Jane said gently to Serena. "Go sit with him." He turned to Luca.

"What would you like to say to your sister?"

"I am sorry, Serena," he began in English, then spoke in Italian for a few minutes, taking her hand and looking soulfully into her eyes. By the end of his speech, Serena was openly sobbing as she flung herself into her brother's arms.

Cho and Lisbon watched, awestruck, as the siblings seemed to have settled their differences. Cho felt Jane's hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to approach the pair on the couch. Cho looked unusually reticent, but Jane nodded in reassurance.

Luca disentangled Serena gently from his embrace and stood at Cho's approach.

"Kimball," he began. "I am an ignorant fool."

_No argument there,_ Cho thought.

"I have been drinking too much, I fear. I say things I do not mean. I only want Serena's happiness. She is happy with you. Please accept my apology."

He held out his hand.

Cho let him stand there a moment, evaluating him as if he were a suspect in the interrogation room back at the CBI. His instincts told him Luca was sincere, but he'd seen how short-lived that could be with misguided idiots. Whatever Jane had done to illicit this attitude change, Cho was pretty sure it was a Band-Aid measure.

Cho shook his hand, however, noticing at the same time how Serena seemed to have held her breath until he stuck out his own hand.

"Thank you," Cho said simply.

"Would you like me to stay while you make that call?" asked Jane of Luca.

The younger man nodded. "Si. Prego."

Serena caught Cho's eye from her place on the couch. "I will call you later, Kimball," she said. "Grazie."

He was being dismissed, and the last thing he wanted was to leave her.

"If you're sure," he said hesitantly, glancing at Luca.

"It is all right," she said with a tremulous smile. "I think everything will be all right now."

"Okay."

He nodded to Jane and Lisbon and saw himself out.

In the elevator, Cho let out the breath he'd been holding since he entered that suite. He didn't know what the hell Jane had done, but if this took, he'd owe him big. Jane would make him pay it in full, with interest, thought Cho, a little unsettled by that possibility.

And then he smiled.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Well, that was intense," said Lisbon on their walk back. "What happened in that room?"

Jane held tightly to her hand, marveling that he could do this with her at last, in public, in the sunlight.

"I put him in a relaxed state and got him to admit he was using alcohol to try to escape the real issue—his fear after his car accident. Everyone had that figured out but him. I got him to agree to call AA. And I put a suggestion in his mind that from now on, alcohol would taste like, well, cat urine to him."

She laughed. "You really are amazing, you know that?" she said. He stopped in the middle of the piazza to face her, taking her other hand as crowds of people flowed around them like a river around two rocks.

"Why, Lisbon, you've never said anything like that to me before."

"I was afraid you'd get the wrong idea."

"You mean the big secret that you were madly in love with me? Got news for you, sweetheart…"

"But I never knew you felt the same way," she said almost shyly.

He grinned. "The revelations just keep coming."

He bent and kissed her, and suddenly neither of them wanted anything more than to find a bed. But although they were both feeling younger than springtime, the fact was neither of them were kids anymore, and their bodies needed a little time to recover. So, reluctantly, Jane dragged his lips away from hers, producing the two passes Nicollo gave him from his pocket.

"How would you feel about a VIP tour of the Coliseum?" he asked, eyes shining.

She snatched the tickets from his hand. "Wow! Really? How'd you get these?"

"Let's just count this as part of the seventy percent that I don't tell you. A man still has to have some secrets, you know."

She frowned. "I was really hoping you'd start to reduce that percentage, given that I have few secrets to hide from _you _anymore."

Jane just grinned, then took her hand as they resumed their stroll back to their hotel.

"Trust me, Teresa, you're actually more mysterious than you think. For example, I have no idea what your face will look like when I…" He leaned over to whisper the rest in her ear, and she flushed, then slugged him hard in the arm.

"You're depraved," she said, but her Irish eyes were smiling.

Jane rubbed his arm gingerly. "No, I believe _insatiable _is the word you're looking for, my dear. And for the record, I'm really not into the S&M stuff, so I'd appreciate your holding off on the foreplay..."

She hit him again for good measure, but this time, he only laughed.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The rain beat against the windows of Jane's hotel room, as he nestled closer to Lisbon's back, spooning her warm, naked body in his bed. He felt her stir at the sound of muted thunder, and he inhaled the intoxicating fragrance of her hair.

"Good morning, my love," he whispered, pulling her closer still.

She hummed in appreciation of their warm cocoon. He kissed her bare shoulder, his hands coming around to cup her breasts. Lisbon smiled a secret smile, feeling his morning hardness against her bottom.

"Good morning, Mr. Insatiable."

The events of the day and night before flashed through her mind. They'd had a magnificent private tour of the Coliseum, then the ancient Roman Forum. They'd dined on the best pizza either of them had ever had at a bistro across from the Palatino. But as awe-inspiring as the tour and the food had been, it was nothing compared to the wonders of exploring one another.

Jane, she'd discovered, could do things with his tongue that could only have come from in-depth study, coupled with his uncanny pseudo-psychic intuition. But she had some tricks of her own and returned the favor. For the first time, Lisbon had the privilege of witnessing Jane coming completely undone beneath her hands and lips.

Seeing him that way had been sweeter than all the gelato in Italy.

Now, after the best sleep of her life, she turned in Jane's arms, kissing him languidly while the rain slowed to a romantic patter.

"Can we just stay here all day?" she said with a sigh, her fingers playing happily in his messy curls. She still couldn't believe she had this beautiful, amazing man to herself.

"Just give me some sustenance to keep the energy uh, up, and I'll stay in this bed with you until they have to carry me out."

He smiled, inviting her fingertips to trace the laugh lines at the corners of his sea green eyes and creasing his stubbled cheeks. His expression was dreamy with affection in the dim light of morning. She kissed him lightly, feeling extremely possessive all of a sudden. He was hers. All hers.

"I've been thinking—"

"Now none of that, Lisbon," he chided. He was genuinely afraid that she was about to overanalyze things and decide it wasn't worth the risk of continuing. "We agreed to go with the flow. Option three, remember?"

She sighed and shook her head. "We leave in two days, Jane. I'd like to know that this isn't just the romance of Rome, that this is real."

He brought her hand down to press it against his heart. "Feel this. That's real." She could feel his pulse pounding steadily beneath her palm. His hands dropped to her hips, drawing her closer to his arousal. "Feel that?" he asked seriously. "That's about as real as it gets, Teresa. That's what you do to me, just by being near me."

"But that's just sex—"

"Do you love me?" he interrupted, brushing aside what he felt was the beginning of a nonsensical argument.

"You know I do," she said, blushing, though bravely meeting his eyes.

"And I love you," he said. "I haven't told anyone that since that last morning I left my wife to go to work. This isn't just sex for me. It's sex and it's love and it's friendship, and all the possible shades of gray in between. And to tell you the truth, I don't need to wait until we get home to decide where I want this to go. The last two days have made things crystal clear."

She watched, fascinated, as he brought up his left hand from beneath the covers and slipped off the golden wedding band that Angela had put there some twenty years before. He moved to set it gently on the bedside table.

"Jane," she began, not wanting him to think she was giving him some ultimatum that he wasn't really ready for. "You don't have to—"

"Yes," he said emphatically. "I do. It's not fair, not to either of you, that I continue to wear it when I have feelings for you. She's gone, Teresa. It's a sad fact, but there it is, and it's about time I faced it. Its original meaning has been bastardized anyway."

He'd turned a symbol of love and devotion to one of self-flagellation and a commitment to vengeance.

"Angela wouldn't have wanted that." He smiled a little wryly. "Actually, she would have been appalled."

Lisbon's eyes had welled with unshed tears, touched beyond measure at the huge step he was taking for her. For both of them.

"But this doesn't mean you're giving up on Red John, does it?"

His lips formed a thin line. "No. My family might be gone, but I still owe it to them to destroy the man who killed them. That was all on me. I think you understand that a bit better after the last few months, don't you?"

They both were thinking of Tommy Volker.

"Yes," she said simply.

"So," he said. "The question remains, what do _you_ want, Lisbon?"

"You," she said, without hesitation. "I want you."

And then she was kissing him, trying to tell him with her mouth and hands how she didn't just want him here in Rome; she wanted him in Sacramento, or in Timbuktu, or wherever in this world they might end up.

And by the way Jane returned her kisses, in the confident way he rolled her onto her back and covered her with his body, she knew he believed her.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I love the rain!" exclaimed Serena, huddling close to Cho beneath the black umbrella they shared.

"It's nice," he said, in his simple way. But he meant it.

He smiled at her childlike reaction to the swans who ruffled their feathers in the rain as the birds swam in the small lake of Villa Borghese Park.

Since Luca had admitted himself to a rehab clinic the day before, she acted like a tremendous weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She smiled more, made love with even more abandon, and had Cho teetering on the edge of…giddiness. His cheeks actually hurt from the workout his smile muscles were getting.

And with her brother out of the picture, both of them felt free to fully enjoy their budding romance.

They had jumped into bed much sooner than either of them had planned, and now Cho found himself in the strange position of working backwards, which left little time left to move forward. But he wanted to woo her, to go back through the steps he'd missed. One of them was a romantic walk on a rainy afternoon in Rome.

Around them, the foliage in the park was almost blindingly green, the rain having polished away the dust of the city, making everything seem like a misty forest out of a dream. Blossoming trees of red and white only added to the lovely illusion. On an island in the middle of the lake, a small temple with Roman columns, the Temple of Aesculapius, beckoned to them.

"I wish we could see that close up," she said wistfully.

Cho shrugged. "Let's rent a boat."

"But it is raining! You will get wet to the bone," she said.

"I already am," he said with a grin. He was only wearing a light jacket and tennis shoes, while she was cozy and dry in a very practical raincoat (though it was bright red) and beautiful Italian leather boots, her dark hair in a neat bun. His front was somewhat dry, but the water that sluiced down their umbrella had soaked his entire back, even trailing down beneath the collar of his shirt. But Cho didn't mind at all.

They rented a rowboat, and Serena sat in one end with the umbrella like an Italian princess, trailing one hand in the lake while Cho rowed in the rain. He looked up at the sky, opening his mouth for a drink, while Serena laughed aloud.

He rowed past the temple, Serena snapping pictures with her phone. They disembarked when Cho beached the boat on the shore. Cho's expression was comical when they saw there had been a footbridge on the other side that would have taken them quickly (and much more dryly) to the island.

"You knew that about this along, didn't you?" he asked with amused accusation.

She smiled mischievously. "I do so love a man with strong arms for rowing."

He laughed in spite of himself.

The discomfort of his sopping hair and clothes was worth it all to have seen her so enchanted by the boat ride. They took refuge beneath the portico of the temple, surveying the park from their beautiful new vantage point. Cho wiped at his face with the lacy handkerchief she handed him. It smelled of her perfume.

"It is like Heaven here," said Serena, her arm linking through his, her head resting on his wet shoulder.

"Yeah," he said, and he pulled her into his arms, kissing her with a passion that warmed them both.

Later, after a breathtaking tour of the Galleria Borghesi, they walked back to Serena's suite and showered together, making love as the hot water took away the chill of the spring rain. They ordered the best room service Cho had ever had, marveling at the fact that one could not get a bad meal anywhere in Rome. They ate in bed and talked for hours about their separate lives in separate countries, while the rain continued to fall outside the window in heavy sheets.

"I must go home tomorrow," she announced reluctantly, her head on his muscular chest as he sat up against the padded headboard.

Cho felt like she had hit him in the gut. He had hoped they would have three more days together before _he_ would have to leave her.

"Oh," he said.

"I must get home to check on my Nonna. She is ninety-three and lives alone but does not see very well. I worry."

He could understand that. She was very protective of her family.

"Of course," he said.

She sat up to look at him, inspiration in her eyes. "Come with me to Napoli," she said. "You could ride the train with me, stay the night and come back to Roma in time to catch your flight home the next day. Please? I would love for you to meet her."

He couldn't think of a reason to say no to her, and the thought of being alone in Rome without her made him feel deeply bereft.

"Okay," he said.

Her smile alone would be worth the trip.

**A/N: So, one more chapter before our Roman holiday must end. If you decide to review, please log in so that I might reply to you personally, and answer any questions you might have. Grazie for reading!**


	9. Arrivederci, Roma

A/N: Well, here we are at the end of another fic. I hope you had a great trip, and that it inspired you to go to Rome for real some day. That should be a requirement of all human beings, I believe. I wish we could stay in Rome forever (Okay, I mean me ;) but alas, here's the conclusion. Divertirsi! (Enjoy!)

**Chapter 9: Arrivederci, Roma**

"I suppose we should get out of this bed today," said Lisbon languidly, as she combed her fingers through Jane's hair. His head rested heavily on her chest and the rest of his body was sprawled partly over hers, effectively pinning her to the bed. She knew he was only half-awake-not surprising, given how they'd been up half the night making love.

Over the last twenty-four hours, they'd only left the bed to bathe or open the door for room service, and Lisbon was starting to get a little antsy. She'd never been prone to sleeping during the day, but Patrick Jane had perfected the art of catnapping, so he wasn't in much of a hurry to abandon their round-the-clock slumber party.

"I think it stopped raining," she added, hoping to tempt him.

His mumbled response was unintelligible.

She smiled, loving him more than she ever thought it possible to love anyone.

"I haven't had the time to buy many souvenirs, and I really think we should bring something home for Rigsby and Van Pelt."

"Pope soap and Coliseum key chains aren't going to adequately bring Rome home to them, Lisbon," he said, lazily lifting his head.

"True, but they'll appreciate the effort. Maybe I'll even buy Van Pelt one of these cheap bracelets with the saints on them."

She held up her own recently acquired wrist ornament, and she was heartily surprised when he nipped her playfully on the side of her breast.

She squealed a little—very unlike staid Teresa Lisbon—and with a speed that belied Jane's apparent languor, he had her wrists pinned against the bed, resting his body weight completely upon her. She couldn't move. Well, at least she pretended she couldn't. If he were an attacker, he'd be writhing in pain on the floor, clutching his crotch by now.

"What was that?" he muttered dangerously, eyes shining down at her. "Sauciness? Ingratitude?"

With his hair even more disheveled by her fingers and falling over his brow, he looked like a naughty little boy; it was very hard to take his chastisement seriously. When she grinned, he purposefully relaxed even more in retaliation. The rest of her breath swooshed out of her lungs.

"Sorry," she rasped out. "It's beautiful. Now get…off…me." She struggled halfheartedly, and was pleased with the reaction she got beneath the covers, recognizing he was having difficulty pretending he wasn't completely and utterly aroused by her movements.

"Ah, I don't think so. Since you went to a Catholic school, I think you know what a smart mouth can get you, young lady."

Her eyes widened in mock fear. "Not—"

"That's right," he nodded gravely. "A severe tongue-lashing."

She tried to laugh, but didn't have the air for it. He lifted his body briefly so she could catch a breath, then his mouth descended upon hers, at first punishingly rough, but almost immediately his kisses grew loving and seductive. She moaned and he released her wrists, allowing his hands to rest on either side of her face as his tongue slipped inside her mouth to mete out his punishment.

_If this is his idea of punishment_, thought Lisbon, wrapping her arms around his smooth back, _I'll take a life sentence_.

It was another hour before they finally made it out of their room.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

They decided to eat breakfast in the hotel restaurant off the lobby, so they were pleasantly surprised to see that Minelli and May had returned from the first leg of their honeymoon. They sat in a sunny corner, sipping their rich Italian coffee and holding hands across the table. Lisbon was struck by the sweetness of it.

"Should we interrupt," Lisbon whispered to Jane after they'd been seated a few tables away.

But it was too late—May had caught sight of them and smiled.

"Join us," she called, indicating that there was room at their table for two more. They caught the eye of their waiter and he brought two chairs to the Minelli table. The couple rose in greeting and there were hugs all around.

"How was the coast?" asked Jane when he settled into his new chair across from Lisbon.

"Gorgeous," replied May.

"Well, what we saw of it," said Minelli with a wink. Lisbon actually blushed. Fatherly former bosses didn't have sex lives.

Jane grinned. "Good for you both, Virgil. You still taking another week in Italy?"

"Yeah, though I admit I am a little anxious to get back to work."

"Well, that's not very romantic, Boss," Lisbon teased.

May laughed. "Believe me, I'm just as excited as he is. It will be good to get him off the couch and out of my hair."

"Well, things haven't been the same at the CBI since he left," said Lisbon seriously. "You don't know how happy I am that he'll be back where he belongs, even if it isn't as my boss."

"Oh, I'll still be happy to boss you around if you like," offered Minelli, but his eyes were bright with emotion. He'd missed her too.

"You're the only one besides Lisbon I've ever allowed to boss me," added Jane.

Minelli snorted before taking a sip of his coffee. "As if that ever stopped you from doing whatever the hell you wanted to anyway."

Lisbon nodded in understanding, and Jane shrugged unapologetically.

There was a pause in conversation as the waiter brought Jane and Lisbon's usual morning beverages and took their order for breakfast. When their hands accidentally touched as they both reached for the cream, they shared a secret smile, and Minelli's eyes narrowed on them.

"Well, you two didn't waste much time," he said, and Lisbon blushed.

"Virgil—" said May, chastising him for his tone.

"I don't know what you mean," said Jane innocently.

"Yeah, right. I was an investigator for thirty years, Jane. You're not fooling me."

Jane grinned and reached for Lisbon's hand. "You caught us. Against her better judgment, Lisbon here has fallen madly in love with me."

"My better judgment is right," the lady concurred, but she squeezed his hand and smiled happily.

"Really?" said May, excited. "If you ask me, it's about time. I sensed something between you two from the moment we met. Bravo."

"Yes," said Lisbon, though her heart was pounding to finally acknowledge her feelings to someone besides Jane. "You going to rat us out with Bertram, Boss?" she asked Minelli.

The older man sat back against his chair, his hand resting on his chin thoughtfully.

"I'm not sure how CBI rules about fraternization apply to consultants. It might come down to your designation, Jane. If you are an _independent _consultant, it means you officially work for yourself, not the CBI. If you aren't, then you're a CBI employee, and so fall under their rules."

Lisbon had been afraid to voice these fears. "So it might be as simple as changing what we call him?"

"Yeah, I think so. But it won't be that easy. _Independent _means he would probably lose his healthcare and other state benefits, maybe some of his official privileges…"

"But then he wouldn't have to quit though, right?" she asked, glancing hopefully at Jane.

"Hey, I like my dental benefits," protested Jane dryly, showing his famous pearly whites.

"You're teeth are lovely," said Lisbon, "but it's the rest of your body I'm worried about."

Jane nearly choked on his tea, the fit of laughter hit him so unexpectedly, and Minelli and May smiled knowingly at each other.

"Shut up," said Lisbon. "You know what I mean. I want to still be able to work with you. We make a great team," she finished softly.

Jane patted his lips with his napkin and mirrored her expression. "Yes, we do."

It took some effort to break eye contact and look politely back at their breakfast companions, to forget that she and Jane weren't the only two people in the room.

"I'm sure Bertram won't tolerate much hanky-panky though," warned Minelli.

"Then there shall be neither hanky nor panky," Jane promised, but he gave a wink to Lisbon. "Scout's honor."

"Ha," replied Minelli. "As if you were ever a Boy Scout."

"Actually—" began Jane.

"There won't be," Lisbon rushed to assure her former boss, shooting Jane a look of annoyed embarrassment. "We shall maintain the height of professionalism, as we always have done."

Jane raised his eyebrows at that, but for once refrained from comment.

"Well, it will be great to have you back, Boss," Lisbon said, slightly changing the subject. "Maybe Serious Crimes and White Collar will cross paths once in awhile."

"In this economy, you can count on it," Minelli quipped, and they all shared a hearty laugh.

They chatted happily for the next forty-five minutes, discussing the sights of Rome and Amalfi, cultural differences, and Minelli's plans to stay with family for their last week in Italy.

They said good-bye with the knowledge they would see each other again soon, in Sacramento. When Jane and Lisbon stepped out of their hotel into the late morning sun, he automatically took her hand and they walked toward the shops that lined the Piazza di Spagna. The air smelled fresh and clean from the recent rains, the cobblestones still wet in places.

"Feel better now?" he asked her.

She wondered if she would ever get used to him reading her mind.

"Yes. Wondering whether we'd still be able to work together at the CBI was a concern. How about you? If what Minelli says is true, this will affect you the most. Is becoming an independent consultant really what you want to do?"

"It's a small enough sacrifice, Lisbon."

She tiptoed up to kiss him on the cheek, mid-walk. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," he said.

And just thinking about their simpatico when working together, kissing her in a hidden alcove, fulfilling her fantasy and taking her on his couch—Jane had no doubt it would be pleasurable indeed.

He decided not to tell her he'd been kicked out of the Boys Scouts. Apparently, he didn't like following rules.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The flight home was a bittersweet one, especially for Cho. He kept reliving his last kiss with Serena, in the garden in front of her grandmother's house while the taxi waited to take him to the train station. She'd had tears in her eyes, but she'd smiled at him, reaching up to trace the hidden dimple in one of his cheeks. Her fingertip had been so soft, and she'd smelled like roses.

"Arrivederci," she'd said softly. "I will miss you, Kimball."

"Me too," he'd said. And damned if he'd almost told her he loved her, but that would have been ridiculous. Impossible. You couldn't love someone in less than a week. Ask Romeo and Juliet, he thought morosely.

He glanced over at Jane and Lisbon, sitting across the aisle of the plane in their first class seats (Jane had once again finagled it for all three of the). The pair were holding hands, talking and laughing softly, their heads close together, the arm rest up between their seats. He was happy for them, truly, but he was also tasting the unfamiliar flavor of envy.

He tried to reassure himself with various platitudes, starting with, _it's better to have loved and lost, etcetera, etcetera…_It wasn't really helping him much. Heaving a sigh, he put on his headphones and watched the in-flight movie. _Les Miserables._

Go figure.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

_**Three weeks later…**_

Cho was eating his lunch at his desk, when his cell phone buzzed an incoming text. He smiled when he saw it was from Serena. She had sent a picture of them together on that rainy day in the park, her arm holding the camera out to snap the awkwardly tilted picture of him with a goofy grin, his hair soaking wet, his face pressed tightly against hers as she smiled.

_Remember this? _ said the message accompanying it.

_Every day._

_Would love to see that silly smile in person._

_Just look in the mirror, _he messaged back.

_You are a very funny man, Kimball Cho._

Over the past few weeks they'd texted each other every day, and called when they could, not an easy task, given his work schedule and the time difference. But neither of them had wanted to let this go, even though the situation seemed impossible. He was realistic enough to know that long distance relationships seldom worked, particularly this long of a distance, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from talking to her. It was sweet agony, and he knew they were both feeling it keenly.

Just then, his desk phone rang. "Cho," he answered, a smile in his voice.

"Hey," said James from lobby security. "There's an Italian National down here, claiming she's a friend of yours. You expecting anyone of that description? Although, if you aren't, I'd be happy to show her the sights…"

Cho was literally speechless. _No freakin' way_, he thought numbly.

He suddenly rose to his feet, his cell phone clattering to the floor. Rigsby and Van Pelt looked at him curiously, and from his couch, Jane smiled mysteriously.

"Cho? You there?"

He swallowed and found his voice over his tight throat, his pounding heart.

"Yeah. Send her up," he managed. He noisily hung up the phone and darted like a madman out of the bullpen. He almost plowed over Lisbon.

"Sorry, Boss," he said, but walked quickly for the elevator.

"What the hell's got into him?" said Rigsby around a bite of sub sandwich. He'd never seen his friend like that before.

"Aw, romanticismo," said Jane from his couch.

"What did you do?" asked Lisbon suspiciously.

"Just helping Cupid a bit," he said, grinning.

Van Pelt and Rigsby looked at one another, then wordlessly followed Cho out into the hall to see for themselves what had Cho behaving so uncharacteristically.

Lisbon walked over to Jane, who crumbled up his sandwich wrapper and grinned at his lover.

"Say, did you know it's Fashion Week in San Francisco?" he asked idly.

"No," she said, plopping down beside him on the couch and stealing from his bag of chips.

"Apparently this was news to a certain fashion designer in Napoli, as well."

"You are such an old softy," she said, desperately wanting to kiss him for his kindness in reuniting Cho and Serena. She resisted, though just barely.

He shrugged. "Don't let that get around," he said. "I have a reputation to protect."

"Don't worry. No one would believe it anyway."

She sat back against the couch, resting her head on his shoulder in a rare public display of her affection. They munched on his potato chips in companionable silence, waiting to see the rest of the show.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_**Later that week…**_

They'd finished their case closed pizza with the rest of the team, and Jane and Lisbon had gone home, to her apartment, exhausted. He'd moved in a week before, which made sense by then, since he'd been at her house every night and nearly every morning since they'd returned from Rome.

Lisbon tossed her badge and gun on her dresser in their bedroom, then shrugged out of her blazer jacket. She sat on the edge of the bed, then bent to take off her boots. Jane came into the room then, a wineglass in hand. He set it on the table and knelt at her feet, removing her shoes for her as she lay back on the bed. She sighed in ecstasy as he massaged her aching feet, her eyelids fluttering down to rest on her cheeks.

"Now I know why I keep you around," she said blissfully.

Jane grinned, continuing his work on her dainty feet.

"There are other reasons, I'm sure," said Jane confidently.

"You give great massages too," she said slyly, eyes still closed. "Awww," she moaned, as he found the tension in her left arch.

He laughed softly. "Yeah, right."

The last massage he'd given her had started as a simple shoulder rub as she'd sat in her desk chair late at night, finishing up the quarterly reports. It had ended with their slow, sensual release on the white couch he'd given her. So much for the _height of professionalism._

He glanced at Lisbon's serene face, happy to see the lines on her forehead had relaxed. Soon she was on the edge of sleep, lulled by his tender ministrations, when he heard her mumble, not for the first time since they returned from their trip: "I wish we were still in Rome."

"It was lovely there, wasn't it?" he said soothingly.

"Oh, yes…the rain on the windows…the cruise down the Tiber…"

"Did you know, Teresa," he said conversationally, "that you have exactly sixty-two vacation days stored up?"

She opened one eye to look at him. "And how do you know that? No—wait. You bribed Laura in Personnel, right?"

"When will you learn to stop trying to look behind Oz's curtains? But that is neither here nor there. My question is, what are you saving those days for? Gather ye rosebuds, Lisbon."

"I was hoping to apply it to an early retirement."

He rolled his eyes. This woman would never retire.

She sat up on her elbows to better gauge where he was going with this. "What are you up to, Jane?"

He released her foot to reach into his inside jacket pocket, and she felt momentarily disappointed at the loss of his warm hands on her tired feet. He tossed an envelope on her stomach. It had the logo of a local travel agent on it.

"What's this?"

"Well, gee, Lisbon, you're a detective," he said with amused sarcasm. "What could you possibly do to find that out?"

She gave him a sour look, then sat up all the way to open the envelope. A brochure was tucked in between two first class airline tickets. _Explore Romantic Tuscany!_

Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. "What the hell…?"

"You work too hard," he told her. "I've never seen you so happy and relaxed as our week in Rome. And you long for it every day, I know you do."

She met his eyes, and he was stricken anew (as he was every time) by the pure love he saw there. Neither could she deny his observations. "You know why Rome is so important to me."

He leaned up and softly kissed her. "Yes," he said simply. "But there's no reason we can't have more of that."

"Well, for one, we both live on civil servants' pay."

He stared at her a minute, then took a small, fortifying breath. "Remind me to tell you some day how much money I have stashed in untraceable safe deposit boxes all over California."

She didn't question him, knowing he must have saved that money from his wealthy fake psychic days. He'd grown up a relatively poor as a carnie performer, so the urge to horde must have been ingrained. She understood him well enough to know that after his family was murdered, he'd considered that blood money. But they were both looking at things differently these days.

"Oh," she said solemnly. "But that's beside the point. I can't just take off willy-nilly and fly to Italy once a month. They need me at work—they need both of us."

Jane nodded. "True. But they can spare us from time to time. I'm not saying that we do this every month. But I want you to promise me you'll start taking your full vacation every year, so we can do some fun things, like travel. There's much of Europe and even Asia that I for one would like to visit."

She stared at him a moment in surprise. He was thinking of them in the future, planning that they would still be together. She had wondered if the romantic feelings Rome had stirred between them would fade, or if he would have doubts that their love would last. His words had finally reassured her of his commitment.

"Okay," she whispered, and she wrapped her arms around him tightly, loving him with her entire heart. He squeezed her back with equal emotion.

"That's my girl," he said into her hair. "We found love in Rome. What say we try for amore a Florence, or amore a Pisa? Perhaps amore a Arezzo…"

He felt her small body tremble with laughter. "I love it when you speak Italian."

She pulled back from his embrace and he joined her on the bed. They lay on their sides, facing each other.

"Well, until we touch down in Italy again," she said, reaching for the buttons on his vest. "What say we discover some amore a…_Sacramento?_"

"Well, it ain't the Vatican," he said, nuzzling the sweet spot below her ear, pleased at her aroused shiver. "But I guess it'll do for now…"

**THE END**

A/N: It was so nice to go back to Rome, even if it was only through fantasy. Thanks so much for reading this and for your lovely reviews. Please look for the concluding chapters of "Red Roulette," coming soon, along with a special story project I'm working on with Nerwen Aldarion. Check us both out on Twitter for updates. Grazie!

Until then, arrivederci!

P.S. I took a little liberty with the date of Fashion Week in San Francisco. It's usually in September, I believe, not May.


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